Abiding in the Turmoil
by FatedFeathers
Summary: New Moon AU: Wherein Jacob Black has a slight case of "split personality disorder," keeps Bella Swan from falling to pieces, and has her returning the favor. Mature audiences only. Not for the faint of heart.
1. Abiding in the Turmoil

**[**New Moon AU: La Push / post-Port Angeles movie fiasco / the night Jacob wolfs out.**] [**A/N + Prompt down the bottom.**]**

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer._

* * *

><p><strong>Abiding in the Turmoil<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Amidst the confusion of the times, the conflicts of conscience, and the turmoil of daily living, an abiding faith becomes an anchor to our lives.  Thomas C. Monson _

* * *

><p><strong>o~*iii*~o<strong>

**Forks**

"_I really think I'd better go home now,"_ he said before she waved him off.

She is selfish. So very selfish. But how can she ever come clean without hurting him badly? _Without losing him, too, you mean?_ a tiny part of her says. No. She couldn't lose him, too. It would be the end of her.

It is the expression on Jacob's face that haunts her now, though. She tries to call, but there is no answer and she's getting worried. Much too worried. He should be home by now. What if he didn't make it? What if he drove off the road? He was so very, very hot. Why did she even let him drive off by himself?

God, sometimes she is so sick and tired of herself she wishes she could just—enough. She will get in her truck and drive to La Push, and that is the end of it. She _needs _to know that he is all right. Screw curfews and all else.

Bella makes the ancient engine roar at her with prehistoric might as she floors it and turns onto the One-Ten. She will be in La Push at record speed.

Almost there, she pulls over, parks her truck at the entrance to the rez and walks the rest of the way. She doesn't want to wake them up, in case she is just being paranoid.

**o~*iii*~o**

**La Push**

He paces back and forth in the makeshift garage, balancing precariously on the edge. The flames lapping at his insides, and the crawling beneath his skin do little to help the chaos he's sure is about to literally tear him apart.

"You should leave," he finally tells her in a choked off whisper. "I- I don't know what's wrong but you should go—I think it's best if you leave, Bella." He isn't sure why she should leave, and he doesn't want her to go, but he says it all the same.

Bella's head snaps up and she stares at him, disbelieving. She starts to shake her head. "No," she says firmly. For some reason, she wraps her arms around her middle, like she, too, is about to come apart, and he remembers that jerk left her. "No," she repeats, and he can hear she is going to cry.

"Yes!" He doesn't mean to snap. Why is he being so mean? Jacob doesn't understand, and he feels guilty that he's asking her to leave when he sees it hurts her.

Frustrated, he reaches up to twist his hair.

Bella steps toward him again, and he swallows back on the fire that is constantly pushing up his throat. It burns, and he very possibly might choke on it.

She watches his hands twitch restlessly at his sides. He is all but overcome by the urge to reach out.

"I'm staying" she says with finality and meets his eyes. She pauses to shift her weight from one foot to the other. "Jake, I _hate_ seeing you like this—_please_, what can I do?"

"I don't know," he says, and it's hopeless. _You could take my mind off it. _The next words are out before he can process, and he is appalled with himself. "You could always take your clothes off—that's guaranteed to—" He snaps his mouth closed and sees his shock mirrored on her face.

"Excuse me"—she sputters, and then laughs—"_what?_" But she quickly claps her hand over her mouth.

His reply snaps out like a knee-jerk reaction, "Don't pretend you don't know what I want." _What the hell? _Quickly, he scrambles for an apology. "Shit—_God._ I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I don't know why I said that—forget I said that." He is _such _a _moron_. Why _did_ he say that? He _is_ losing it, and losing it big time. "You know what? You should leave—leave _now, _before I ruin our friendship. _Go._"

Bella's face is a mask of indignant outrage. "Oh. Oh, I get it. That's nice. So—what? I have to leave for my _own good_ now, is that it? You know what? No. Screw that. I'm not taking that from you, Jake—nuh-uh—no way."

"Bells?" he wonders, worried, as she angrily starts pulling at her flannel over shirt. _Crap. _"Jeez, Bella, I was just—I was _kidding!_"

A wet snort. "Sure you were, Jake—but this isn't about that." Bella keeps yanking at the material, like it offends her, until it's off. As if to herself, "If this is what it takes to prove it..." She throws the bunched up heap at him and her chin juts out defiantly. "What do you want me to take off next?" When she tugs at her t-shirt, he puts his foot down.

"Nothing! You don't have to rub it in—but, prove what? I didn't mean any of it—I would never-"

Bella glares at him through the tears and hisses, "Nothing, huh? Nothing. It's _always_ nothing. _I _am nothing—no. No more. If this is what I have to do"—she yanks her t-shirt up while grumbling under her breath—"to prove that I am good enough to stay"—and manages to get it over her head, tossing it, too, at him—"then _fine!_"

Jacob isn't trembling anymore, but Bella is—no, she's _shaking._ Her face is all wet, and she has her hands behind her back and he has _no idea_ what to say. He still hasn't said one word when she, chest heaving, suddenly stands in the middle of his garage with nothing but jeans and a flush covering her.

"Bells," he tries as softly as he can, but gaping at her all the same. "You _are_ good enough, you didn't have to do that."

"Sure. You say that _now_," she tells him.

"I do. And you _are_ _good enough_ and youre _mine—_you just don't know it yet."He cringes. He doesn't know where that came from either. "I- I...," he stutters. Her fingers, only seconds ago fumbling with the button to her jeans, are still. Their eyes lock. "This is so messed up, Bells, I- I honestly don't know why I—"

She stops, because he stops. He can't back up any farther, is now trapped against the wall blocking his retreat. All he needs to do is raise a hand and he will touch her, and then she shivers and chokes out a sob because his fingertips graze her stomach and all he can do is to release a defeated rush of breath and bruise her lips with his.

And then his hands are _everywhere._

She is soft and cool under the blaze of his skin, and she gasps into him when his palms and fingers explore her curves like he means to claim and keep each inch he finds.

Inexplicable heat pushes through him like a wave, and knocks the air out of his lungs. "You're supposed to be mine—not his. _Mine._" _What's happening to me?_

Her eyes, large and conflicted, search his while he tries to make sense of the slow ache that seems to vibrate in his bones. There is a pressure from within that makes breathing so very difficult. "You should go," he mouths, the words barely building in his throat, let alone leaving his lips.

Hot. Everything is _so _hot.

As if she just freed herself from some kind of a vortex, her mouth finally moves in retaliation. "_No_, Jacob," she tells him fiercely. "No. I _want_ to help—let me help."

"You can't!"

"Tell me—explain, Jake, please, I can't stand it—I _need_ to help you."

Not knowing what else to do, he takes her hand. "I feel—it's like I'm... _breaking_...," he manages before he chokes on the rest, and then presses her palm into his burning skin over his heart. "_Here._"

"I'm sorry," she says and more tears flow. "I can—if it helps, I'm-" Her arms move like magnets to enfold her midsection, but he yanks her hands back to him.

"_Why_ do you do that?" he demands.

"Because I'm falling to pieces, Jacob! So you _know_ I know all about breaking because I already _am broken _and I _can _help you—_please._" She mouths, "Let me help."

"_How?_" he challenges. He has her wrists locked in his hands, and talking is becoming more and more difficult. He can't—he just _can't._ Tremors shiver up and down his arms, and he isn't sure if it's coming from her or him. When she's this close he can't seem to think straight.

Finally, after the longest time, she swallows and tells him, "Anything—anything you want, you just tell me what you need and I will—I _can." _The strangest noise comes from somewhere deep within his chest, and Bella tilts her head to meet his eyes.

"You," he says, and he is sure he should apologize again for it, but he agrees with the simplicity of the statement—he _does _want her. Also it's getting harder still to string his thoughts together in the thick fog that's clouding his mind.

And then, just as he is so sure she is going to tell him how damaged she is, instead she plants quivering lips on his chest. She is hesitant, but the contact is too much for him.

Trembling, with her cool, damp face pressed to his skin, he hopes he is holding her tightly enough for her to come with him to wherever he is about to disappear to. He then bends to her ear, manages a shallow intake of air, and whispers, "Don't let go."

She turns her face and finds his lips. "I won't," she vows, and then her mouth is on his, hard and desperate. It stirs a longing deep inside, and whatever is happening to him—that makes him say and do the things he has—moves his hands across her skin like he knows the path just as well as the destinations.

Lips throbbing and tongues aching they draw apart, but Jacob is far from satisfied. There is a burning hunger within; he aches with it, he longs and feels sick, all at the same time. He doesn't mean to, but as he moves down her neck, to the junction where her throat dips to the collarbone, he grazes her with his teeth. She whimpers and he is convinced he just marked her skin.

"Sorry," he tries to say, but it's so useless to talk because his throat isn't allowing much more but a raspy rush of air to pass.

"Don't—I don't—_mind_," she gasps when his palm and fingers drag across a soft rise and swell—and again—in a greedy, kneading motion, until she whimpers _Jake_ into his neck. And then his skin is pulled taut when she draws it into her wet warmth—he feels her teeth, and again that strange noise sounds from deep down.

The sound reverberates through his entire body when he feels tiny pinches along his skin where her fingertips dig into his lower back.

He doesn't understand it, but all of him says she is _his_, and it's with a startling motion he spins her, reaches into her jeans and grips her hip to push her into an ache something tells him only her body can soothe.

She is secured to him with his arm around her, and his hand moves to latch onto her breast, causing her to smother a breathy moan. With the other he soon meets unreal warmth and damp cotton.

"Oh, yes—_please_," she pants. "So much—I want you to touch me _so much._"

Jacob has imagined this many times, but he has never touched. It matters little, however, as that surge of unjustified confidence courses through him. He slips his hand further and presses it flat to the source of the heat.

That noise vibrates in his chest again when she whimpers, but this time it pushes up his throat, and comes out low and rough. "_Mine._" She quivers against his palm, and he says it again, "Mine, Bella...," while stroking along the soft material—it sticks to her more and more.

The noises she makes grow ragged, and she begs him, "_Touch me._" A moan makes him clutch her against the ache, when he searches past the wet fabric.

He can't think anymore. He can't even see—he just hears and feels, and slides and rubs his fingers against the slick warmth until her entire body is quaking. A string of shallowly panted words implore him not to stop, and then Bella comes apart in his hand, trembling and gasping.

As she turns and clings to him, he struggles with three very potent urges, dueling for the upper hand inside him. He wants to take, and he wants to fix her, and he wants to marvel at what he just accomplished, but none of that stays with him when his entire body throbs as another sickening ripple runs under his skin.

Because suddenly he can smell _everything_, including what's on his hand. It slams into him with staggering force and before he knows what he's doing—_again—_he's got his fingers in his mouth and he's tasting her and dying of shame and arousal all at the same time.

Swamped with the strange mix of self-reproach and burning want, he turns his head and squeezes his own eyes shut against Bella's wide-eyed stare, unwilling to meet the disgust he is sure is there. But then, cool and gentle, her hand is around his and she speaks. Her voice is a little unsteady, but she doesn't sound upset or even grossed out when she quietly says, "Please don't—can you do it again?"

His eyes open and bewildered, they question her, but she has guided his hand back to his face, and between her soft chest grazing his, the intense curiosity in her gaze and the responding urges pulsing through him at her scent, he can't _not_ do as she asks.

She watches him, and when he—still somewhat embarrassed—slips one finger between his lips to lick, her breath catches. She takes in a deep, shaky gulp of air. "Oh—oh, _yes_. I- I think," she stutters, and the rest follows in a rush. "I think you're fixing me, Jake. I can _feel_ my heart and it's beating so _hard_ and it's like all the pieces are fusing together and it's all _you, _andthe way you're looking at me, and I can do _that-_" Her hand flutters down his abdomen, making the muscles there bunch up, and then she touches him through his jeans.

It's all a jumble and it's such a struggle to think but his mind manages to latch onto one thing: fixing—_fixing __**her**__._ The relief is overwhelming. _That_ is what he does—it's who he _is._ A fixer of broken things. He swallows several times before he can speak past the thickness in his throat. "You're—I did that? I'm... fixing you?"

"Yes," she says as she takes his hand and presses his palm between her breasts. His breath stops and hers shudders, but she reconfirms, "Yes... Can't you _feel_ it?"

Not only does he feel, but he _hears. _"Yeah." Helpless against the overpowering demand in his blood, his hand is on her breast again.

"Jake?" Reluctantly, he tears his eyes away from her body, although still touching, and meets hers. "Is it—" a hitch in her breath cuts her off when his fingers find her nipple, "—are you still breaking?" He nods, and she drops her gaze as she splays her fingers over his heart. In a shallow whisper, she asks, "Does it hurt a lot?" and looks back to his face.

"This helps," he replies with difficulty, and wonders how much longer he can stay together when he feels like something is already cracking inside.

Thoughtfully. "I see..." And then she is closer, both her hands resting low on his hips as she brushes her mouth over his suddenly hypersensitive skin. There's a sharp intake of breath when her tongue darts out to lick him. It makes her pause and he can't handle that.

"Don't stop," he begs. She responds with firm pressure from her lips and tongue to his chest, causing another surge of that something he's not sure what to do with to overcome him. Before he can redirect, his hands are buried in her hair, not a little roughly. "Sorry," he chokes out.

"Shh," is her only reply, but his sudden lapse of control hasn't discouraged her. If anything she seems _en_couraged by it, and is now slowly sliding down his body while leaving open-mouthed kisses and wet sweeps with her tongue as she goes.

When her fingertips trail along the edge of his jeans, and her knuckles brush his lower abdomen as she begins to twist the button, he is grasping at what little is left of his mind and covers his face. Shaking his head from side to side, as if it will clear it, he manages a weak, raspy query. "Bells?"

The button releases and immediately thereafter he feels the material give way as Bella undoes yet another, and another, and another-

"Oh...," she breathes in fascination. "Oh, okay—um, yes?" He's just about to answer when she runs a tentative finger over him, and even though the thin fabric of his boxers separates him from her skin, it's still enough to make him lose his mind. As if there were any part of it left to lose. Only a strangled noise comes out, and then her hands are on his thighs. "Yeah, okay—slow, right?" she concludes.

But he can't talk—all those efforts are expended—so instead he drops the back of his head against the wall, grabs his own hair to keep himself from doing something he is sure will guarantee her running away from him in horror, and prays for a miracle.

His senses are so sharp that he hears clearly when Bella shuffles, and then her hands grab his thighs as she, he assumes, repositions herself.

The cool air that hits him makes him shudder, and Bella sucks in a startled breath. "Ohh." There isn't even a beat for him to reflect or ask, useless as it may be without the ability to form words, because she's already touching him with her soft fingers.

Jacob locks his jaw and tightens his fists in his hair.

She speaks again, a little more tentatively. "Okay, so this is going to be—okay. I'm just going to..." It matters little that she doesn't finish; he hears when she parts her lips, and then a jolt seems to slam everything inside him to a halt when, warm and wet, her lips lightly brush against him.

Not only does his chest seem to vibrate with that strange sound again, he also moans helplessly as she repeats the motion, but she keeps her lips there now and then her fingers wrap around him with firm determination.

Hot and slick, her tongue darts out, licks along his length experimentally, and he almost dies from the strain of keeping his hands to himself. A choked-off groan is the only thing giving away the herculean effort.

Until she does it again, only this time she adds her mouth when she reaches the tip of him, presses her tongue flat as her lips adheres to the shape and then he's sinking...

There's heat—moist heat and wet pressure and friction and _something_ that builds in his throat and finally, when he just can't any longer, is breathed roughly through gritted teeth, "Holy _fuck_—" It's all much too much and he's coming apart. "—_stop stop stop!_"

He might just die a little when she lets go; whether it's from relief or the fiery need for release, he doesn't know, but Bella's worried words break through the chaos in his mind. "What? What did I do wrong? I'm sorry, I-"

Again he's shaking his head. "I can't—I just _can't stop. _You're killing me."

Bella exhales, "Oh." He hears the smile in her reply. "_Good._" It triggers the horrible intruder within, and this time he really can't stop himself.

Jacob looks down at her, and she sucks in a shallow, shuddering breath when their eyes lock. "Don't stop—_finish it._" A shiver runs through them both, but she nods her compliance and licks her lips before she, once more, takes him into her mouth.

Wanting to dash to the nearest cliff and throw himself off of it, he lashes out with his arm to stop another lapse, and slams his fist into a shelf he forgot was there. There's a creaking, protesting sound as it gives way and the metallic clatter against the floor cuts sharply at his sensitive ears. Bella gives a start, but her lips never leaves him.

Nor does she stop.

Being a hormonal teenager and fantasizing often about the girl of his dreams, he knows what is about to happen when the pressure rises and the pit of his stomach clenches. But this is so much more than that, and he is convinced he is literally going to be torn apart any second now.

The sickeningly powerful tremors that threaten to break him to pieces tell him it has something to do with the very same reason behind _why_ Bella is just about to gag if she doesn't have the sense to pull away.

He can't for the life of him talk past the choppy, wordless moaning that is all he seems capable of communicating with. She knows, though, and somehow it has the opposite effect than what he intended.

Instead of backing off, she puts in an extra added effort, sweeps her tongue over him, and that's all it takes. Not even when he tenses up or a groan sticks in his throat, does she move.

But the tearing inside halts when, with a drawn out noise ending in a choked off shout, he pulses between her lips tightly wrapped around him. She does gag a little, but she stays until he can gather enough semblance of control to touch his trembling hands to her face and stroke back the hair that sticks to her damp skin. "Bella?"

He hears her swallow a few times after she lets him go, and for a while he can't stop staring at her swollen lips.

Her eyes are wide when finally he manages to meet them, and he does so warily, still slightly ashamed as everything that has transpired hits him as if in a completely different light. "D- Did I fix it? A-are you okay?" she stutters in a hoarse whisper.

His senses are still sharp—maybe even sharper than before—and while it doesn't cause the same sickening response now, he can still smell her. That scent, mixed in with his own, sets off a strange sense of swelling satisfaction that he tries to stuff to the side, without much luck.

He runs his hands down her neck and shoulders, and then grabs her arms to pull her up to stand. She wobbles a little, but he keeps her steady.

At a loss, not only for words, but confused about what just happened, and why it suddenly just stopped, he tells her, "I... think so."

Tears well up as she searches his eyes and, whatever she finds there, it makes her lips quiver before she throws her arms around him with a sob and blubbers into his skin, "I love you—_so much, _and I'm so happy you're okay."

All he can do at that moment is to wrap his arms around her and hold her. Tightly.

It's not so much a struggle against an intruding and unknown source of inner turmoil that closes his throat this time, but more a deeply rooted _knowing_ that tells him she really means it this time, the way he means it.

The reassurance makes him warm all over, and it's almost as if he were glowing, or maybe he really has lost his mind and this is some very weird and messed up place he's now stuck in.

At least he held onto her tightly enough, because she _is _here. If he _has_ disappeared, then being lost with Bella Swan—a _naked_ Bella Swan, hugging him so hard his heart might burst—isn't such a bad thing.

But then suddenly he knows it's reality, as the intruder snaps his mind back into focus. _Mine_, it growls.

Only when Bella sighs, _"Yes,_" does two—and the only likely—explanations dawn on him.

One: either he has been possessed by a demon with telepathic powers. Or two: Bella Swan finally drove him over the edge.

Jacob doubts it's the first, puts all his bets on the second, but finally decides that he really couldn't give a fuck.

**o~*iii*~o**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So this started out as an intended smutty drabble to be written on the basis of the prompt stated below, given by **audreyii-fic**. Not even a few hundred words in did I run into some major problems; how the heck do I write a blowjob from a guy's perspective? (Yes, it's written from third. So not the point.) It was a problem. _

_As always, the absolutely awesome **MeraNaamJoker** offered to help, and basically we ended up (as good as) co-authoring the thing. She provided me with constant suggestions/advice (even full paragraphs for me to pick from like a kid in a candy store) until—TA-DA—we had the finished product, which I hope y'all enjoyed thoroughly. (Especially you, **audreyii-fic**! Will you dare give me another prompt in the future? Ohh. I **like** it! Let's just say right now, so there are no surprises, that it, too, would turn into an o/s.)_

_I fail hard at drabbles. You could make money, betting on me not being able to keep it under 2000 words. No joke._

_So, anyway. Thanks for reading. Thanks to **MeraNaamJoker** for your AWSUM skillz and for proofing this, and thank you, **audreyii-fic** for the hawt prompt._

_Much love, me. _

**Prompt: **NSFW: http:/nudes (.) soup (.) io/post/57291078/Bild **(by **audreyii-fic: I like the "Holy fuck–ohgodyes" feel to it.**)**

**PS.** I totally hope this had a _"Holy fuck—ohgodyes"_ feel to it.


	2. Golden and Wild

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer_

* * *

><p><strong>Golden and Wild<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>Touch me I'm cold, unable to control  Touch me I'm golden and wild as the wind blows / And tumbling tumbling don't go fascination" / "Let's Get Lost," by Beck and Bat For Lashes_

* * *

><p><strong>o~*iii*~o<strong>

**Forks**

The pillow is damp and a chill slithers just beneath her skin, forcing her upright. She sways a little from the persistent spell of sleep.

She scratches her neck absently and yawns. And then she scratches more firmly when a twitch of discomfort dislodges to travel straight down into her chest. As if compelled, her hand follows, and while rubbing the heel of her palm there, she rises from the bed and walks over to the window.

Bella pushes up the window and sticks her head out into the spring mugginess. She peers into the dark. Not until her face feels slightly damp does she realize what she is doing and takes an involuntary step backward, as if she were suddenly retreating from a threat.

Now fully aware, she lets her eyes travel around the room, searching for something but not totally clear on what, exactly, she expects to find.

Something isn't right.

Again Bella looks, trying to pin down the source of her disquiet. Nothing is out of place... But the air is too cold, compared to the outside. There's a place on her cheek that burns as if brushed by ice.

"It was a nightmare," she says out loud, firmly, and then starts at the sound of her own voice. Rolling her eyes, she climbs back into bed and switches off the lamp. She's not a baby, and she's not going to develop a fear of the dark at this late date.

She does want to see Jake, though.

Once born, the craving grows in intensity. Bella struggles against it, arguing to herself, _It's the middle of the night. Probably he's asleep anyway. You just saw him yesterday; it can wait till tomorrow. _(She would have gone up today, but she had to work. Sometimes she resents the need to do anything that doesn't take her straight to Jacob. She knows that's probably not healthy but she can't help it.)

None of her reasonable objections can fight the sudden intense need to be in his arms. To be _safe _from whatever danger is threatening her, even if that danger is just in her own mind. He's always been able to rescue her from that, too.

She got a pre-paid cell for him a couple of weeks ago, so she picks up her own phone and texts, _Are you awake?_

A minute, and then, _I am now. What's up?_

Oh crap. _I'm sorry. Never mind._

Jake: _I'm not mad. Are you okay?_

_I miss you._

Jake: _Miss you too. Skip school tomorrow and hang with me._

_Your dad'll notice, I think. How about I come up now?_

Jake: _Okay. I'll wait for you in the garage._

Bella giggles. _Seriously?_

Jake: _Well, I wasn't serious till now. Why? Do you really want to come up?_

Bella hesitates. It's the moment when she should by all rights be telling him she was just joking and that he needs to go to sleep because he's _still _growing like crazy. Again, that threatening chill shoots from her face down to her chest, where a recently repaired hole throbs with remembered hurt. Shivering, she types, _Yeah._

There's a long pause, and then, _Come up now. I need to see you._

Charlie's on third shift, so Bella walks out the front door and roars away from the driveway without any need for subterfuge until she reaches La Push. She cuts the engine once she turns off the main road and coasts into the general store's parking lot. Once again, she'll walk the short distance to Jacob's house.

Actually, she might just run.

**o~*iii*~o**

**La Push**

Jacob paces back and forth across the concrete floor, trying to focus and failing. He meant to work on the Rabbit a little bit while he waited for Bella to show up, but a sudden restlessness set into his muscles and wouldn't let him hold still. If he could, he would start running to Forks and meet her halfway, but that's stupid. Instead he paces around and around and strains with his recently sharpened hearing to catch the first sign of her arrival.

He has just thought _screw it_ when footsteps crunch the gravel, and with his body already in motion to spring, he leaps out to meet her.

She looks a little flushed, like she just ran a marathon, which tickles the worry in his spine; Bella isn't a runner, so whatever made her exert herself to get here so fast—because she did get here fast and maybe he freaked a little—must be serious.

"Hey, Bells," he starts to say but is cut off when she throws her arms around his waist, not from the force of the embrace, but rather the invisible rotten herring that slaps him square in the face. The intruder who won't leave him alone stuns them both with the low growl that rumbles in Jacob's chest.

Bella speaks first. "I _felt_ that one."

It's not the first time, and usually it happens under much different circumstances. Never while feeling revulsion - on second thought, that isn't all he feels. But he isn't reflecting on that anymore, because a strange sensation is shivering up his spine, and that fire is back. Before he realizes it, and to Bella's obvious shock, he finds himself several feet back.

His entire body behaves as though it wants to shake him apart.

"Jake?" The shock quickly turns into concern, only to widen her eyes in a slow-building kind of horror. She starts toward him.

"_Stay away_," he hisses through clenched teeth.

She falters, and the flush in her cheeks drains out to leave her ghostly pale.

The world is a shimmer of flames and pure agony and this time he isn't so sure Bella will be able to hold him together. He must be standing with one foot in hell. What else could burn him down to his bones?

In the middle of the conflagration, just as he's positive the intruder will take over and he won't recognize himself anymore, he hears Bella speak. "Jacob. It's okay. I'm here." Her arms are around him, too, and somehow that's enough.

A discontented resignation washes over him, but at least he isn't shaking anymore. His arms are his own again, and he wraps them around her. "You're crazy, honey," he whispers as a last shudder seems to seep out through his feet, leaving him grounded.

"But you're okay... Right?"

He goes to nod, but is shaking his head instead. "Yeah—no—" His spine solidifies, and he finds himself frozen with his nose halfway down her cheek. There's that putrid smell again, clawing its way in through his nose and down his throat. He isn't sure which instinct will overcome him. The urge to vomit, or the scarier one: the need to rip and tear.

He jerks back and growls, "One of _them_ touched you."

Bella looks first hurt at his withdrawal, and then confused. "One of _them?_" She raises her hand to the exact spot on her cheek. "It's so cold..." Her voice trails off, and she turns, if possible, even more pale. When she speaks again, her voice has gone low and trembling. "Edward."

Again, the same urge, almost a need, to rip, tear, destroy entirely. This time, though, he at least understands part of it. "What the _fuck_?"

Bella swallows hard, but she looks as sick as Jacob feels. "He used to... he used to sneak into my room to watch me sleep at night, even before we went out..."

He can barely see her past the wash of red over his vision. "He did _what_?"

"I didn't mind, then... I was kind of flattered actually. But he knows, now that he's back, that I don't want to be with him anymore... Do you think he could've snuck in again?"

_them them them_

Whoever _they _are, the intruder wants to crush them into tiny pieces and watch them burn. For once, Jacob and he are in full agreement, especially if Edward is one of _them_. "If he did, he's dead. You're mine and nobody goes in your bedroom but _me_."

Bella's eyes go wide with horror. "No, Jake, you don't understand. He's, um, he's different, he's not like normal boys—you wouldn't be able to even hurt him—"

The intruder snarls in fury at this allegation, and Jacob hears the sound come out of his own mouth. "Don't be so sure, Bella."

"Why did you say _them_?" she wants to know. She's watching him carefully. He knows that look; she wants to know if he's figured something out, something she already knows.

_them them them_

"It smells rotten," he says with revulsion. "Not human."

Bella's face twists a little, but before he can ask why, she grabs the neck of her shirt and starts scrubbing at her cheek with it. "It's—I want it off me."

The fury vanishes when confronted with her obvious distress. "Hey, hey." He grabs her chin gently and turns the offending cheek toward him. "It's okay." Using the lightest touch he can, he pulls her against him and bends to the spot that screams _wrongness _at him. Before he can think the action through, he extends his tongue and licks it. Something burns his mouth, but Bella shivers—a good shiver, this time—and sighs, sliding her arms around his neck, so he does it again. And again, and again, until at last the scent is gone, washed away by his own, and all he tastes when he licks is sweet Bella-skin.

"I love you so much," she whispers into his shoulder. "You make everything that's wrong right again."

He doesn't know how to express that the only time he feels right, anymore, is with her in his arms (preferably with as little clothing as possible), so he just answers, "I love you too, Bells."

They cling to each other a little while longer, and Jacob thinks about seeing if she's up for taking off more clothes (it seems like lately that's _all _he can think about) but Bella reluctantly draws away, dropping her arms to her sides. "I'd better get back or Charlie'll freak out when he gets home."

The intruder growls at the idea of anybody else holding influence over her (_mine_), but Jacob silently orders him to shut up and says, "Okay. See you tomorrow."

She _does _come over the next day, and he manages to get her out of most of her clothes. When she leaves after dark, though, instead of the usual contented rumbling from the intruder that follows an orgasm in her hands (or in her mouth, or in his boxers when grinding against her), there's a constant low-level anxiety.

_them them them_

The intruder doesn't like her leaving his sight. Jacob doesn't either. He's worried, for no good reason, except that the deadness touched her. Which is probably a really good reason, come to think of it. He stalks back and forth in the tiny living room after dinner, and his father watches him out of the corner of his eye, carefully, like he's been watching for months.

"_What_?" Jacob snaps finally, and instantly feels guilty. That wasn't him, that was the intruder, but how to explain to Billy? It's not possible.

"Are you hot, son?" Billy asks, completely unperturbed by his boy's rudeness.

"I'm always fucking hot now!" Jacob complains, and then says, "Sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's okay," Billy says, which perversely pisses Jacob off even more.

"I've gotta go. I don't know when I'll be back." He jogs out before his father can reply and takes off toward Forks. After about fifteen minutes, he realizes what he's doing and tries to turn around, but the intruder takes over his limbs and shows him that he can actually run far faster than he's ever attempted, without even breaking a sweat.

Once he reaches the woods outside Bella's house, Jacob draws to a halt in the shadows, staring at her window, where he can hear her deep, even breathing. She used to have nightmares, she told him, until the night, _that _night, in the garage, when everything changed. Now, though, she sleeps the night through and only dreams of him. (When he asked what the dreams were about, she blushed and wouldn't tell, which was answer enough.)

Hearing the sound of her slumber relaxes him and eases the tension that's been singing through his muscles since she texted the night before. Jacob settles down, back against a tree trunk, elbows resting on his updrawn knees. His eyes begin to drift closed...

Until the wind shifts.

Instantly, he's on his feet, a long growl thrumming deep in his chest as his eyes (which can see in the dark now) follow his nose. The dead thing is back.

There are _two _dead things. Equally disgusting, but distinct in their scent as well.

_them them them_

Jacob wavers. The intruder seems to know exactly what to do with _them_. If he lets the other take over, he has no doubt that the issue will be addressed. The problem is, Bella's nearby, and he doesn't want to frighten her.

A thought breaks through to the foremost part of his mind; what, exactly, _will_ happen if he gives himself over completely?

Reflection is futile, however, and without effort, not fully comprehending how he got there so fast, he is through Bella's window and lands just inside it with only a dull protest from the floorboards beneath his feet.

A guttural snarl rips through him as three things register simultaneously. Bella, pressed back to the headboard on her bed, two of _them_, at the opposite wall, one locked down by the other, and fury—red, hot and relentless—demanding he _kill._

Bella is reaching for him, and a sob tears from her throat. "Jacob—" But then she freezes, halfway off the bed.

"_Don't_, Bella, he's not safe," orders one of the dead things in superior tones.

Jacob snaps his head to stare at the source of the rank stench filling the room like an oppressive fog. "_You _don't talk to her," he growls at it. _Mine. _"And you don't get to be here—get _out!_"

The other thing in, he guesses, _Edward's_ hold has grown still, but then the female _thing_ speaks, looking at Bella while it does so. "My, my, you do know how to pick them, don't you?"

Scowling, Bella gets out of bed. "He _is _safe. He doesn't sneak into my room at night without permission, for one thing."

Still holding down the redheaded _thing _with one hand, Edward's eyes squeeze shut as the pale fingers pinch the bridge of the perfect nose. "I was doing it to keep you safe, love. I knew Victoria would make her attempt soon."

Jacob growls again (_not yours mine_) but Bella snaps out before he can say anything, "Don't call me that!" Jabbing her finger, she moves toward _them_ and Jacob has to yank her back, but Bella doesn't let that stop her. Still intent on Edward, she hisses, "You _left_ me so you don't get to call me that _ever_ again! And how _dare_ you come into my room—how _dare you?_ I'm Jacob's now. _Jacob's, not yours!_" Looking shocked at her own daring, Bella claps a hand to her mouth.

The intensity of the admission seems to wrap them up in a thrumming charge. For a passing moment, however brief, Jacob is sure he feels whatever she feels, including an odd probing sensation, pressing against the edges of his—her?—resolve.

Unexpectedly, and with an other-worldly sound, a streak of white and red, the female dead thing takes flight. It's out the window before he can blink.

The intruder sears through Jacob's awareness and he is only one beat behind, flinging himself after female through the air. Before he can even think to give himself over, let alone make a conscious decision to do so, the strangest pressure builds in his spine and somehow he feels himself breaking and fusing together all at the same time.

There's heat, there's _so much hurt_ and then it's gone, replaced by heavy pounding beneath him, a crowded awareness within and the powerful bursts and pulls of his body.

Jacob is in full pursuit, until an unfamiliar thought passes through him.

_Jacob? Hey, Jake! _

The drumming under him slows, and so does he. _What the hell?_ _Embry? What the fuck, man what's— _He shakes his head as if to clear the insanity he is sure is the intruder's fault. The motion feels too clumsy, takes too much of a wide berth and—

"Jacob!"

_Bella?_

_Hey, dude, you've gotta get out of there, she can't see—_

(_Mine not leaving staying go back mine mine mine_)

Shock slams into him. There are too many emotions, too much of everything, he can't tell any of it apart.

And _its_ voice speaks somewhere far behind. "No, Bella. It's far too dangerous. Stay here. He'll come back—" He isn't listening anymore; he's already swinging back around and there are ripping sounds from the ground, as he seems to dig into it before pushing off into the direction he came from.

_Holy shit, Jake, what the hell is going on?_

It's Quil. _Quil. _All of a sudden, his friends' disappearances make a whole lot more sense. (_Need Bella keep her safe from them_)

Unlike the chaotic mess of Jacob's brain, Quil's and Embry's thoughts are organized, clear, and almost like conversation. Embry's focusing on staying calm. It's not going too well, Jacob can tell. _Are there leeches at Bella's house, man?_

_Leeches?_

Before Embry can explain, another growl rips up through his clenched teeth because _Edward _has cold hands on Bella. One part of his mind recognizes that it's a restraining hold, not trying to hurt, as the thing reasons in its sickly-sweet voice, "Bella, love, he's coming back, see, but don't try to go after him. He's not in control at the moment."

Bella flails when Jacob approaches. He abruptly understands that she couldn't see him until just now; her eyes don't work the same way. "Let go of me, Edward! He's got to be terrified! Let me go!"

The thing releases her but hovers, clearly worried. "Bella, he isn't fully aware of what's happening."

"But _you _know, don't you?" she spits over her shoulder, and then slowly approaches Jacob. "Jake, it's okay." Her voice goes low, and soothing. "It's all right. I get it now."

She does?

Quil and Embry groan simultaneously. _Oh shit. She knows._

"Remember those stories you told me on the beach, the first time we saw each other after I moved back?"

He remembers. He remembers it as if it happened five minutes ago, because it was the first time he'd seen Bella Swan since he was a little boy and he instantly liked her, _so _much, way more than was justified.

"The Cold Ones, right? And they had one enemy." Still moving with caution, she raises one trembling hand to his neck, which is now inches above her head. "The wolves."

_Jacob, dude, _Quil says, _I can't believe you told an outsider those stories._

_He didn't know they were real, Quil, _Embry responds.

_Kill it kill it _snarls the intruder—the _wolf—_still trying to redirect his attention to tearing Edward apart.

"You're a wolf, Jacob." She moves her hand behind his ears and scratches. "That's what's been happening. That's why you felt like you were falling apart."

It's such a relief to finally put all the pieces of the puzzle together that he exhales heavily through his nose and butts his newly massive forehead against her chest. She giggles a little, and that seems to be the straw that breaks the camel's back for Edward, because suddenly the thing is standing in front of Jacob with Bella behind its outstretched arms.

"I can't stand to see you risk yourself like this," it remonstrates.

Bella glares at its back. "It's not a _risk, _Edward—"

But before she can finish the sentence, the intruder howls at the sight of one of _them_ between Bella and himself, and he would tear it limb from limb except Bella's got one hand on its shoulder and it might hurt her, and he _can't _risk hurting her, but he's got to get it away...

Even while Quil and Embry snarl together at the sight of Edward between Jacob and Bella, Jacob feels his limbs shake and go sickeningly liquid, twisting and shrinking into another shape entirely. Suddenly, he's human again, stark naked and on his hands and knees in the dirt and pine needles.

"Jake!" Bella sounds both relieved and anxious, and starts toward him. "You're back!" A low growl builds in his throat and he pushes off the ground.

"Don't even fucking think about it," he all but snarls when the _thing_ spreads its arms wide as if expecting to protect _his_ girl. _Mine._ He reaches for Bella before the—leech?—does and pulls her to him, not at all ashamed of his lack of clothing.

"Mind your temper, Jacob Black."

Jacob releases Bella and gets right up in Edward's face. He suppresses a gagging reflex. "Condescending prick," he spits through gritted teeth. "Just who do you think you are? No wait, don't answer that—_bloodsucker_. Leave. _Now._" He wants nothing more than to tear that serene face clear off, but a delicate touch to his arm sends a series of convulsions through him, stopping the intruder from taking over.

"You really shouldn't get so close," _it_ tells Bella.

Jacob can feel her nails digging into his skin, and she answers with restrained anger, "Jacob would never hurt me, Edward. He never has and he never will. I think you should go. Please, leave."

Not much can be read from the leech's expression, but the thing doesn't leave. Another growl vibrates in Jacob's chest at its obvious defiance and then Edward speaks. Almost like pleading. "Why don't you come with me? I'm sure Esme would love to see you again." A pause. "And Alice. She misses you."

Bella goes to take a step forward, and it's then Jacob understands that disconcerting probing. It's the creature's influence on his head. What does it feel like to Bella? "Alice?" she whispers. "Alice is back, too?"

"Yes," Edward confirms. "They all came back."

Bella puts her hands in front of her, wringing them, then embraces her chest. Jacob flinches at the resurfacing of the old gesture. She hasn't done it since the first night he felt he'd fall apart. "Um... and they wouldn't mind? If I came over? It's really late..."

Edward sways closer, eyes boring into hers. "Of course not. They don't need rest, after all."

"What about Charlie?" she asks, and Jacob's heart gives an agonized thump. "If he comes back and I'm not here..."

"I'll be certain to have you back before he returns. I'll just have Alice keep an eye out." Edward reaches out. Jacob watches in mingled terror and disgust as the dead fingers draw nearer to the girl he loves...

And suddenly her face twists. She jerks away. "It _was _you," she growls. For an instant, she sounds like the wolf. "_You _touched my cheek. You made me cold again."

Relief makes Jacob's heart pound furiously in his chest. Edward draws back once more. "Yes. I'm sorry... I missed you so much and I couldn't resist. I apologize, deeply—"

"Leave," she interrupts in a strained voice. "Leave _now_. And don't you _ever_ do that again."

Misery distorts Edward's face, but then it smooths into a cool mask of indifference as it turns to Jacob. "If you _ever_ hurt her—"

"Edward!" Bella snaps.

"You heard her, leech." Jacob takes a step closer. _Finally_ the message seems to get through, and the Edward-thing lifts its hands in a placating manner as Jacob continues. "And if _you_ ever try something like this again..." He leaves the threat hanging, letting the tick draw its own conclusions. It referred to Jacob as capable of harm, so it should be smart enough to do the math.

"Do be careful, Bella," Edward warns. And with that it leaves.

Jacob isn't able to do much else but stare off into the darkness until he is sure it won't return. His heart is still racing, and he swears he _will_ kill—no, _destroy_ it completely if it so much as looks at Bella again. _Mine_, the wolf growls. _Yes_, Jacob agrees.

"Jake?" Her hands travel up his back lightly, as if testing to see he is all right. "Jacob? Look at me," she says, in equal carefulness. "Hey, it's okay. I'm okay, you're okay. Everything's all right." It isn't until he has to force himself to turn that he realizes the effort it takes, and he trembles with it.

"Bells," is all he says, quietly, and then she's pressed to him while his hands move restlessly, investigating each and every curve and indent on her body.

"Hey—shh," she soothes. Her arms are around him, her hands travel up and down his back before she just holds him and rubs her cheek to his chest.

He can't stop, and when Bella begins to pull away he won't have it. "Please, don't yet—not yet," he whispers as he runs his nose down her face until he buries his in her neck. It's _still _not enough. Why isn't it enough?

_them them them_

Bella gives a start when he pulls back abruptly. A flash of incomprehension fans across her otherwise concerned features, and then he reaches for her nightshirt, lifting it suspiciously while bending down to sniff. Jacob stiffens, and lets go of the offending material.

Understanding dawns on her face and she looks apologetic when suddenly she tugs the shirt upward. He thinks of stopping her, but they're in the woods, so instead of pulling it back down he helps her remove it and toss it to the ground.

"Bells," he says again, and then he's pulling her against him and they're practically naked together and that's always been enough, always, but suddenly it isn't. "Are you sure you're okay?" He shouldn't have to ask, but for some reason he's doubting himself without being able to pinpoint the exact reason why.

"Yes," she tells him. "I'm fine, Jake, why—are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah," he starts to say, and then with a frustrated groan, "No... I don't..." Because he isn't. He should have been there earlier, _he_ should have kept her safe, but instead _it_ was there and _it_ protected her and _that_ he just can't take.

Because the _female_ dead thing is still out there.

And he needs to make sure it doesn't come back. No, he needs to stay. He's used to being torn in half these days but now he's pulled in three directions—_chase kill destroy_ and _claim Bella now she's mine _and _is she okay? Is she all right? _And as the shivers tear through her again, he knows: she is definitely _not _okay or all right, and she _reeks _like those things and it's going to rip him apart with rage.

"Jake? Jacob! What—where are you going?"

He pauses and half turns. "I need..." _Find it kill it, _the wolf says. But then he sees the conflict reflected in her eyes, and takes a step back, only for the balmy breeze to wash _their_ stench over him and he resumes his previously intended path. "I need to kill it," he informs her matter-of-factly.

"No! Jake? Don't do that, you don't need to do that." She's following him deeper into the woods. He hears her bare feet against the damp ground and once more he stops. His hands twitch, clench into fists and flex with indecision. "Hey," she says, and her voice is so soft. It feels like a caress, but it's not enough to soothe the restlessness itching just beneath the surface.

"I _do_ need to. I have to—" He comes to an abrupt halt because her hands are on his chest and she's searching his face expectantly.

"Stay," she says firmly. "You need to stay, Jake." He is hesitating, she takes a deep breath and then exhales. She steps closer and lowers her voice. "It can wait," she continues.

Jacob is torn, all his muscles straining to go after _them_ while his heart and his head urge him to obey her. But then Bella settles the question once and for all when she whispers, "I need you to fix it—they touched me—like you did before?" and she leans up to gently fasten her mouth on his collarbone. All his breath rushes out of his body at the prickle of her teeth on his skin, and then he nuzzles her neck, her chest, her ears and her hair, searching out the rotten smell that's trying to overwhelm the Bella he knows so well. As he nuzzles, he unconsciously pushes her backward. She gives way before him until her shoulders smack into a tree trunk and she stands up straight, pressing into him.

"Yes," she gasps. "Like that. Please, Jake, make it go away. My skin doesn't even feel like _me _anymore."

He knows that feeling all too well. Obediently, he hikes her up, hands between her rear and the tree, to run his tongue from the base of her throat to the shell of her ear. "I'll fix it," he promises, and follows the wet trail back down, brushing over it with his lips, and then repeats the circuit, reiterating in a whisper, when he reaches her tiny soft earlobe, "I'll always fix it."

With his tongue and lips, he draws across her skin, lightly nibbling with his teeth as he goes. Bella gasps, shudders, and digs her nails into his arms. The sting triggers something wild in him, and suddenly he's as out of control as he was when he leaped out of the window, and just as unfamiliar with his body's response.

_Claim her take her, _the wolf demands, and it matters little that he isn't sure exactly _how_; instinct and his senses guide one hand between their bodies where she is already grinding herself against him, and he against her. "Want you," he breathes and pushes the already soaked fabric aside to greedily search out her slick heat with his fingers.

"_Yes_." Her thighs quiver when she squeezes his waist as if to get closer, trapping his hand. "I need you. _So_ much," she pants and then continues, pleadingly, "_Please_, Jake, I can't take it."

Her words and the urgency behind them makes him throb with need. There's something he has to do, and he's pretty sure he knows what it is, but he can't quite figure out how to get there because the intruder—_no, the wolf—_is focused in one particular body part at the moment and he's on his own. He can't see and he's going by smell and touch as his fingers fumble across the fabric, trying to understand what exactly he should do about it. It's in the _way. _He needs to get past it. Her legs are too tight on his hand to move it right.

"Can't," he gasps. "Can't get there."

"Ssshh," she soothes again, and loosens her thighs minutely.

Okay, he can move again. That's good. Right? Yes. Except that _stuff _is still there between where he needs to be and where he is and it has to move. How do you get it off? Fuck it. Before he can latch onto a solution with his mind, his instincts take over again, and he's twisting the last remaining barrier between them until, with a tearing sound, it comes away from her body and joins the nightshirt on the ground.

She's soft, wet and coarse against him and the voice within is telling him what he needs - what _she_ needs, too. The wolf tells him _now. _The real Jacob wants to be slow, wants to be careful, but then she tilts her pelvis and automatically puts him right where he belongs, and real-Jacob merges with the wolf. He isn't thinking, but doing only what the heat in his veins demands he do—_take take take—_and with a slow but firm push from his hips, she lets him all the way in.

A whimper escapes her, but then she clenches around him and it takes just about every splinter of will _not _to give in to the other part that has to have more and deeper and faster - "Fuck." He squeezes his eyes shut, digs into her hips and trembles with the effort to hold still and _keep _still. He's doing this wrong. There's something else, some other way he should have handled this.

Bella slides her clammy palms up his arms and shoulders. "I'm okay, baby, it's okay." She circles his neck to pull his face to her. She doesn't _sound _hurt but what if she's hiding it? She doesn't like to let others know when she's in pain if she knows they'll feel bad about it. He's afraid to see her face, afraid of what he'll read written on her features. "Hey..." Gently, she coaxes him to look at her by running her fingertips across his skin. "Jake, I've got you."

She's afraid for _him. _That makes him open his eyes, and when he meets her gaze it feels like a firestorm breaking out over his head. She _wants _this; she wants him. All the fragmented parts of him.

This affirmation sets his heart ablaze, and he's more himself, more Jacob and more in tune with what _he_ wants to give her, what he wants _from _her, and this isn't it. Not like this.

He has her snugly held against him, and it's as if she tries to wrap her entire body around his when he finally takes a step back, away from the tree, away from her. He picks her up and cradles her before her feet touch the ground. Holding her tighter still, he turns and carries her back to the house.

Once inside, he climbs the stairs, all the while letting his hands sweep across her skin to assure himself she isn't hurt. Right. He has to do this right—he _wants_ that. The wolf isn't happy, but he tells it to shut up and pushes the door to Bella's room closed.

_Their_ stench still lingers, but he shoves it aside and walks over to lower Bella onto the bed. She clings to him and shivers slightly. "It's cold," she complains, and a twinge of discontentment lets him know the intruder would happily remedy the problem. _No_, he tells it, _I've got this._

"It's okay, Bells," he tells her. "I'll make it go away." Seemingly reluctant to do so, she lets him pull back, but he doesn't leave her side. Instead he runs his hands down her body, each inch covered building an intense hunger within. By the time he reaches her feet to travel back up again, he bends down, catching her eye briefly before following the burning trail of his hands with his tongue. She gives a little shudder when he traces the curve of her breast, only to move on to her collarbone, throat, chin and finally to give her lower lip a firm stroke.

"Jake," is all she manages in a pleading whisper before he's inside her mouth, kissing her hard. The intruder is there, and he keeps testing him, egging on the rush in his veins, telling him _yes, faster_, but Jacob replies, _no, slower._

Not at all inclined to give the wolf a hold on him, he positions himself with his knees on either side of Bella's thighs. He slides his palms up her sides, lifting her arms as he goes until he has them stretched out above her head and her wrists pinned in the circle of one thumb and forefinger.

He releases her mouth, and she sucks in a shaky breath but it catches halfway when his free hand, having traveled back down her arm, drags across her breast. "Are you still cold, baby?" He's never called her that before, but the same thing that's raging at him to take her won't settle for the normal endearments either.

Bella goes to answer, but the reply sticks in her throat when he firmly cups her and swipes his thumb over her nipple. "_Not_... cold," she finally rasps out. "Hot, Jake, so hot. Please... can you do it again? Like outside?"

Again, instinct rules his actions as he pinches the nipple his thumb was brushing, drawing it upward into a stiff peak. She moans and arches in his grip. When he speaks, he almost doesn't recognize the sound of his voice. It's deeper, and somehow huskier than before too. "You want me?"

"Yes," she gasps. He moves his hand to her other breast and works on that nipple. "Yes, I want you."

"Where do you want me, Bells?" He knows where he wants to be, where he _should _be, but he has to hear her say it or for the rest of his life he'll wonder if he took something that wasn't on the table.

She tosses her head, moaning, as his splayed fingers stroke her belly, and lower. "I want you... I want you..."

He rubs his knuckles across her hands. "You want me here, in your hand?" She whimpers. "You want me... here?" He brushes his fingertips across her mouth. She turns her head, eyelids fluttering, and nips at them.

"No," she contradicts, her lips wet and her breath hot against his skin. "No. Not there. I want you inside me, _now._"

To the wolf, this is as good as a command, and Jacob is overcome by the force of raw need that surges through his body. Without thought he's between her thighs and parting them with his knees. He's latching onto her hip with one hand to lower himself before he summons just enough will, reels it in, and the other part growls furiously at him when it's, once more, held back. _Mine,_ he growls right back. But he's almost right _there_ now, and as much as he doesn't want to give himself over, he can't help the throbbing he knows can only be relieved by Bella's body.

Because he wants to. Badly. And giving in, but with great restraint, he sinks down to settle, skin on skin, drawing another whimper from her and a shuddering noise from himself. He is helplessly at her mercy, and when she pushes against him, his hips move reflexively. A groan builds in his throat.

"Jake," she begs. "Jacob, _please_. I want you so much."

He wants her, too, he really does, and when she, again, tilts her hips just so, he drops to the hollow of her throat to bury his face there. "Are you sure?" he asks quietly, because he needs her to be, and he's afraid he isn't the only one driven by the intruder's eagerness—no, _primal need_ to have her, take her _claim her._

"Yes," she confirms without pause. "But if you're not sure... If you don't want—"

"I want you," he quickly reassures, and moves his lips searchingly up her neck, letting his tongue dart out to lap up the sweetness of her skin. It's with near desperation that he explores her, firmly sweeping along her jaw, below it, back down her throat and up to her ear, as if the taste holds enough clues for him to be confident this is right.

Not realizing he was doing it, but Bella's shallow breaths and his own coming out in short pants alerting him, he slows and stops grinding against her.

Reaching down to hike up her knee, sliding his hand to caress the inside of her thigh with trembling fingers, he traps her entire leg to him with his arm. Lightly, he brushes over the warmth and dampness, and she makes a tiny anxious sound. But he's nowhere near finished, and continues to tenderly trace each soft shape, each valley, drawing gratifying noises and whimpers to tumble from her lips.

The wolf nearly howls at him in contempt, but no matter how much it wears on his resolve, he won't give in.

Until he does. However, it isn't because the throbbing painful need takes over, but rather the panting mess in his arms, begging him, "Jake... So much... Need you, _please please_-only you can make it go away."

He swallows hard. "Okay, Bells," he finally relents in a hoarse whisper and, still with her wrists pinned over her head, he dips the fingers working between her thighs into her. She gasps, and he pulls back a little, then moves his hand to wrap around himself, _down and up, down and up_, before inching closer again. She whines between her teeth when he bumps up against her opening, straining against his grip to try to push him inside without his help. Her abandonment makes the animal inside him gleeful, but he squashes it again and slowly inches into her, locking his jaw against the noises that want to escape as he's once more buried in wet, tight heat.

Beneath him, Bella sighs in relief. When he's fully inside her, as deeply as he can go, he feels every muscle in her body go limp. "Oh... yes... That's exactly it, Jake."

He would talk, but he's too busy trying not to explode before he's even had a chance to move. That's a mission that's made more difficult when Bella wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him into her even more securely by instinct. His only hope is in remaining still until she's found what she needs, so, keeping his eyes closed against the mind-blowing sight that's before him, he reaches down between their bodies to rub at the spot he knows will get her there. She sucks in a sharp breath as he begins to draw slow, tantalizing circles, trying to just focus and feel the motion alone.

"Oh, God. More... Don't... please, don't stop," she pleads in a trembling voice, and he almost loses it completely when she, as he picks up the pace, tightens reflexively around him. He says a silent prayer to whichever higher power above will hear him—_not yet not yet not yet—_while she writhes and pushes into his hand, making him jerk against her instinctively.

The moment she half-screams, half-moans and lifts herself against his restraining hand one final, frantic time as the hot clenching seizes him inside her, he surrenders to the urge he's been fighting for what seems like forever. He knows he should be careful, should have a rhythm, should do so many things but it's all just too much too much and then he's exploding into a million tiny pieces around and inside her.

With a sated exhalation, the wolf retreats, dwindling down to a tiny corner of Jacob's consciousness now that he's got what he wanted. All that's left is Jacob and Bella, and Jacob slides down to brush soft kisses all over Bella's face.

"I love you," she says, over and over again, stroking his hair and returning the pressure of his lips everywhere her own can reach.

He's whispering the same thing, in between every kiss, "I _love _you, I _love _you," while his hands cradle her face, caressing her skin. His heart's going to burst with the force of the emotion swelling in his chest. It's too big, bigger than the wolf, even, and it's making him shake in the best way. At last, though, he sighs and presses his forehead to hers. "I have to go home. I don't want to get shot by your dad when he gets back from work."

She makes a discontented noise, tightening her grip in his hair. "No."

A part of him agrees—what home, _she's _his home, now—but the human Jacob knows what the real consequences of staying would be. "I'm sorry, honey."

After a second, Bella reluctantly opens her hands, releasing him. "Okay. You're right. I know you're right. Sorry."

"It's okay. I don't want to leave either." He kisses her, and for the first time when their tongues brush up against each other it's not building toward anything else; it's purely for comfort's sake.

With a massive effort, Jacob forces himself to extricate his body from her embrace, though not without more kisses and touches. She walks him to the door, and his resolve wavers when it closes and locks behind him (as though a deadbolt will keep out any of the real dangers that threaten her), but the wolf reassures him: _no one's coming back tonight._

It's odd, to be listening and not fighting. To think of it as part of himself, rather than a foreign invader.

Jacob starts running back toward La Push, but halfway there he wonders if it would go faster in his other body, and the sudden burst of rage at the memory of how he came to be in that body pushes through his bone and muscle until it twists them into the other shape. He's running on all four paws before he understands how it happened. Almost instantly, he realizes his mind isn't alone.

_Jacob Black._

It's Sam Uley's voice, thrumming with satisfaction.

_It's about time._

**o~*iii*~o**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em>**

_Yeah, it was supposed to be an o/s, but as it turned out, **MeraNaamJoker** and I couldn't let it rest, and split-personality!Jake demanded our undivided attention, so this is what happened. She, **MeraNaamJoker** is absolutely brilliant, and it was a blast collaborating with her. Love you to bits, bb. Also, big thanks to **Cretin** for proofing for us. Love you, too, woman! Snuggle-snorgles en masse. _

_Hope you enjoyed it, and very possibly there will be more to come from these two lovebirds. Stay tuned, just in case. _


	3. Tear You Apart

**[Warning: **_Contains disturbing imagery. 18+ only._**]**

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer._

* * *

><p><strong>Tear You Apart<strong>

* * *

><p><em>And the whisper or handshake sending a sign.  Wanna make out or kiss hard, wait never mind. / "Tear You Apart," by She Wants Revenge_

* * *

><p><strong>o~*iii*~o<strong>

Jacob's hands are shaking while he waits for Bella to pick up (pick up pick up please) and he can't tell if it's the wolf or some kind of withdrawal because it's been five days—_five days_—since he saw her touched her smelled her—shit, no, that's the wolf that wants to smell her (_back the fuck off, fucking animal_)—and he's pretty sure it's killing him. Or at least making him crazy. Crazier.

The phone goes straight to voicemail and he almost puts his fist through the wall before he remembers, no, that's not what Jacob does, he'll just wait (_like the pussy you are_) (_fuck you, you don't get to decide_) because it's not fair to insist she come over _now_ when she's trying to set up online classes for the fall and work all the time. At least the leeches are gone, hunting the redhead (_the way you should be hunt it kill it burn the pieces_) (_I'm not going anywhere, she's here_) so he doesn't have to worry about it anymore.

(_it's coming back it can't stop itself_) (_I know_)

He's so fucking... horny. It's like he can't even sleep without her, because he's got to know she wants him and the proof of that is her legs around his waist and her soft warmth around his cock and her arms around his shoulders as she chants his name and begs for release (_mine_) (_yes_). The more he misses her the worse it gets, and the more insistent the wolf gets too. Like he needs that intrusive bastard telling him how to handle a relationship with his girl.

But she isn't here right now and there is nothing he can do about it, unless he runs down to Forks, but he can't do that either. So he begins to pace, phone still in hand, and the shaking just won't fucking stop. "Fuck this," he hisses between gritted teeth, and tosses his phone on the bed. One hand is in his pants then, sliding over throbbing flesh as he drops the other to the wall. He groans.

(_rosy lips flushed cheeks eyes drowning_) (_hands digging into her ass pumping bella bella bella_) (_fuck you_)

This isn't the way (_yes_) (_no_) not like this.

He loosens his grip and strokes slower, the way she does—_just_ the way she does—she knows how to drive him crazy; the good kind (_soft whispering I love you come for me baby_). A moan sticks in his throat and he leans into the wall. Here, she needs to be right _here_, on top of him so he can have his hands on her breasts, teasing her nipples under his gentle fingers and he loves her loves her so fucking much. "_Shit_, honey."

The pressure rises and he squeezes his eyes shut, gives himself a few shallow pumps.

(_arched back wet noises skin smacking against his thighs bella bella bella screaming his name harder faster make her work for it_) (_fuck yes she's gonna pay_)

Air rushes out of his lungs and this time he _does _drive his fist straight through the wall. "What the _fuck_?"

Heart pounding, he stares uncomprehendingly at the hole in front of him. He aches with incompletion but the violent images are burning his brain and the craving in him (_this is exactly what you need_) makes his stomach churn with a need to expel the poison before it pulls him under.

The door to his room nearly swings off its hinges and he's stalking down the hallway. He can see his dad watching him warily out of the corner of his eye. "Son?"

"Not now," he snaps. Billy calls after him, but he isn't listening as he's down the ramp, moving through the shimmer that gives him what he wants and then he hits the treeline on four legs, speeding through the woods.

Jacob feels a little better after he's run halfway to Canada and back—no more stupid limits on where he can go when he's phased, now that the Cullens have gone—and when he gets home he sees the voicemail notice blinking and that makes him happy. Before he listens, he does the chores he hasn't helped out with in the past couple of days. Billy's understanding about how much time werewolf patrols take, but he's not all that lenient about girlfriend-related moping, plus there are some things he just can't handle on his own anymore. Once that's done, Jacob showers and goes back to his room to listen.

_You have two new messages. First new message._

"Hi Jake." Instantly, he's so hard it hurts. Damn. Can't he keep it down for longer than an hour? "I just saw I missed a couple of calls from you and wanted to call you back. Miss you. Really bad." A pause, and he can practically sense her fidgeting on the other end of the line. "Um... Guess I'll call you back? Hope everything's okay."

_End of message. To delete your message, press-_

He saves it before the automated voice can complete its instructions and goes on to the next.

"Hey, Jake." Bella again, this time less self-consciously. The last time she called must have been on her break at work, when she was afraid of being overheard. "You're still not there. I hope you're not stuck on a long patrol. Uh, listen, I know I said I would come up tomorrow, but Mike's mom said that if I wanted I could go ahead and work eight hours, and that would put me at two hours' overtime, so I said yes. I never thought I'd be glad someone else caught the flu—well, I'm not glad but I _am _happy about the overtime, because you know I need the money, like _so _bad, considering the classes I want to take."

The sound of her voice makes his cock throb but the words she's speaking have the wolf growling in fury. He feels the vibration of its anger in his own chest as she rambles on...

(_enough with the excuses always the excuses show her who's in charge_) (_she's got a life, that's not a bad thing_) (_she should __**be here, **__she's never __**here**_)

...and before he knows what he's doing he hears a crack as the housing of the phone gives way between his fingers.

He drops the phone onto the bedspread and palms his erection through his cut-offs. Goddamn if he'll spend another night tossing and turning with blue balls. Shoving the fabric out of the way, he grasps himself harder than he intended and nearly winces, but then the wolf reminds him of how he shouldn't be alone right now (_it's all her fault_), and it feels exactly right. She shouldn't be gone so much; it's almost like she's _trying _to avoid him. If he had his way, she'd be beneath him right now and screaming while he punished her for making him - _no. _He's a human. Human. Not an animal.

Biting his lip, Jacob pumps himself harder, arching up a little as he strokes against the ache. It hurts—it feels good—he can't seem to have anything that isn't fucked up anymore except Bella (_bella bella bella mine_) and he's not going to let that get twisted too. Instead, he resolutely pictures Bella panting beneath him with wide, soft eyes and tender touches and creamy skin as she...

Nothing's happening. He's so close and he... can't _come_? How is that even possible? Is he a guy, and a wolf, _and _a girl now too? Because that's the only possible explanation for not being able to jerk off. He tries again, focusing on all the right things (_bella bella bella_) and it. doesn't. work.

What. The. Fuck.

Now he's got blue balls and he's scared to boot. This has to have something to do with the phasing thing. Has to. He never had any problems 'til that happened. Running over everything Sam and the others have told him since his initial transformation, Jacob tries to come up with something, anything that can explain it...

Imprinting.

Sam told him there are two reasons for imprinting, according to the elders: to keep the pack strong, and to ensure the next generation of wolf cubs. With a wry lift of one eyebrow, he added, "I'm more in agreement with the second argument than the first, considering the amount of distraction it creates." So... mating.

Holy shit, what if the reason he can't come is because he's not _having sex with Bella_?

Fucking Sam. (The wolf snarls at this; it really, really hates Sam.) He _knew_, he had to know, and he just didn't tell him because... because of Leah, probably, Leah and her killer instinct about exactly which thought train to pursue, until she comes to the worst possible conclusion and makes certain to share it with everyone. If she knew that Sam could only get off with Emily in person she'd be sure to tell every single Pack member she could find within an hour. That must be it. Why wouldn't Jared have said anything though? Maybe an Alpha order... Shit. Shit. This is even more fucked up than he originally thought. It isn't enough that he turns into a wild creature, now he's a sexually dysfunctional one.

Everything goes black and suddenly, he's looking at the pieces of his bunk bed at his feet with one post firmly lodged in the drywall. Billy's pounding on the door, demanding explanations, and Jacob has no idea what to tell him. Instead, he dives out the window and phases again.

The second run doesn't last as long as the first. His (_the wolf's) (no your) _paws keep trying to steer him towards Forks, towards Bella, towards Bella's bed. The most maddening thing is that he knows she'd let him in even though she's got to be dead tired from all the shit she's been doing lately. He could climb up the tree in her front yard and he could do whatever he wanted to her and she'd let him.

Just like she did with the bloodsucker.

_(mine mine mine) (yes mine go prove it)_

Fuck that. Jacob hasn't sunk that low yet. He doesn't have to break into her fucking bedroom. He can wait until his girlfriend has a fucking day off from work and can come hang out with him and they can fucking make out on the fucking couch like fucking normal people.

_(yes. fuck.) (shut up)_

Jake climbs back into his room through the window. Billy's asleep. He can hear the old man snoring across the hall.

_(she should be here)_

He doesn't have much of a place to sleep after destroying the bed. He moves the bigger pieces of splintered wood out from underneath the mattress and thinks about laying down but what good is that going to do when he's not going to be able to close his eyes for more than a few seconds.

_(she should be here underneath clawing tastes so good no wonder all the leeches want to drink her blood)_

Yeah, that's not fucked up or anything.

After a few minutes of deliberation (more accurately described as staring at the holes in the drywall waiting for them to impart some sort of epic wisdom — _Hey, drywall, do you know offhand if supernaturally-based schizophrenia always induces orgasmic abnormalities, or am I just special?_) Jacob decides to go with an old tried-and-true method: The Cold Shower. In times of crisis it's best to return to the basics.

When he steps into the tub the icy water is, thank God, actually uncomfortable: gooseflesh crawls across his body and his aching balls cool down. But it doesn't last long. In a few minutes his brand-new wolf-fueled internal furnace kicks right back into gear and he's just as hot and horny as he was before.

She. Should. Be. Here.

_(she. should. be. here.)_

She should be here, in the shower with him, on her knees, the way it was that first time in the garage, all soft experimental licks and tastes and hesitant lips and wet friction_, _except this time he'd do it differently—

_(grab her by the hair and shove forward hold her still if she tries to pull away)_

—and that would be—

_(come down her throat make her swallow hold her in place keep her there don't let her leave)_

—really bad.

Jacob leans his forehead against the tile.

He's got somewhere between thirty and forty saved messages from Bella on his phone. He seriously considers trying to jerk off while listening to her distracted voice rattle off the hours of her next work schedule, until he remembers he's destroyed the fucking housing.

"Shit," he mutters. And he turns off the water.

Jacob registers as he walks back to his room in the dark that there's only one clean towel left in the linen closet. The wolf registers that Bella Is Still Not There.

_(god will you give it a rest)_

_(mine bella mine show her who she belongs to who she answers to)_

_(I'm not letting you anywhere near her)_

_(yeah you see how well that works)_

Sam is _dead_ for not warning him about this. If he'd known, maybe he could have come up with some sort of backup plan. After all, he can't exactly chain Bella to the bed and just bone her whenever he gets the urge. _(why not) _There's a _reason _man was given a right hand, and it wasn't for making fire or wielding rocks.

And if he doesn't stop thinking about it he's going to destroy the entire house.

On the plus side, the mattress had never been that comfortable to begin with, so it's not that much worse without a bed frame. Jacob is more of a face-down sort of sleeper, but a semi-permanent hard on makes that less than ideal so he flops on his back and stares at the cracks in the ceiling.

_(bella) (bella)_

Is she sleeping? Is she actually sleeping through this while he's losing his goddamn mind? Probably. She hasn't seen him in five days but oh, well, pick up an extra shift, why not, she can just go about her everyday life and he can't even get himself off—

—or maybe that's what she's doing.

_He _can't get himself off, but maybe _she_can and that's why she's doing fine and he's not. Maybe she's horny too but she's taking care of the problem herself.

Jacob closes his eyes and shuts out his bedroom with the broken mattress and the holes in the walls.

She'd close her eyes too.

_(bella)_

She slides her hand down in her panties. (He slides his hand up his shaft.) Her hips give a little jerk as her fingers circle her clit. (His hips give a little jerk as his fingers circle his cock.) She strokes soft, wet folds slowly (he strokes hard, hot flesh slowly) and—

_(grab her wrist jerk her hand out of her cunt flip her onto her stomach)_

—a tighter grip—

_(pull her hair yank her back break her in make her scream)_

—rougher and faster—

_(bruises and bites and blood)_

—the pleasure-pain of rising pressure—

_(take her just fucking take her that's how it's supposed to be done)_

—so fucking close—

_(bella bella she should be here)_

—and it's _still_just out of reach. He needs her.

_(so go get her.)_

Jacob does not sleep.

As first light filters in through the too thin curtains, painting the walls with a blurry grayness, the bleak state of his mind is only amplified. Yes. _His _mind not its—the _intruder's_. His. But who's he kidding? If it were his he'd have spent the past several hours under the blissful spell of sleep with _his_ fantasies of _his _Bella invading _his _thoughts. But no. Because it _isn't_only his.

(_whine whine whine pussy get up_) (…_whatever_)

He does get up and maybe he does so slowly and so what he barely touches his food which, in turn, makes Billy look at him with that typical concerned-yet-knowing look of his, and suddenly Jacob's all pissed off again. Always always fucking _always_so frustrated and angry and he's going crazier still.

(_fuck it out_) (_if you'd let me come prick fuck i hate you_) (_issues_)

"How are you planning on fixing the wall?" his dad asks him, breaking him out of his inner wallowing, and Jacob lets one shoulder hike up indifferently. He has no idea what to tell him, and if he opens his mouth he'll only end up bitching and moaning anyway so that's no good.

"Aren't you hungry?" Billy presses.

(_eat_) (_not hungry_)

"No." At the skeptical lift of Billy's eyebrow, Jacob grabs his plate and stuffs his breakfast down in defiance, demonstratively licking the surface clean. Once finished, he pushes it aside to fold his arms. Billy is no longer smug (rather he looks worried), but then Jacob flinches as images, lots of images from before, flash through his mind - his head pounds and suddenly he's off his chair and down the hallway. He gags but his throat closes and even if his entire midriff section spasms to repel the sickness-feeling, nothing comes out.

This is not fucking happening.

(_need food_)

Jacob slumps back, pulls his knees up to rest his elbows and stares.

He should just go for a run—

(_bella_)

—on _two fucking legs._

And he does. Jacob ends up running up and down the entire stretch of First Beach until he's dripping with exertion...

...but he's _still_horny.

(_don't talk don't say anything shut up shut up shut up_) (_wasn't saying anything dickhead_)

His mind is, if not lost, then all but. He goes home and collapses on the living room floor. Billy's now blank-faced, which means his concern has reached red-alert levels.

This would be a moment when he wouldn't mind spacing out, but of course he can't have that either, so before he's assaulted by another round of (the wolf's) sick and twisted fantasies, Jacob pushes off the wooden planks beneath him.

(_yes first she begs she doesn't deserve it_) (_holy fucking shit enough_)

What? Is he carrying around the Pope of Cocks in his pants or what? Should he get her down on her knees and kiss his Holy Eminence's Emblem first? _Yes, oh lost one, come closer my child..._Jacob cringes and flees, hoping the wolf doesn't turn it into imagery. "I'm going to Sam's," he barks over his shoulder.

Sam. He needs to see Sam before he tears up the half the fucking rez.

(_why not all of it_) (_fuck you_) (_yes she should_) (_she should be here oh god shut up leave me alone go away_)

If it doesn't stop and stop soon he is going to drown himself in the Pacific. He'll do it. He really will do it. So the other-him in his head better shut the fuck up and go away, far far away down somewhere where he won't fuck his shit up anymore.

(_bella_)

Jacob makes himself walk the entire way to Emily's place. _Walk._If the wolf can be a spiteful son of a bitch—

(_yes I am_)

—then Jacob can be, too.

Except that he isn't. Not really. And he's tired, so goddamn tired he'd do anything to just get some sleep. Just one hour. That is all he asks. One.

(_bella_)

By the time he walks up Emily's front porch (more like drags his feet, hunched over, or at least that's what it feels like) he's all but depleted, and the blue-ball-inducing lunatic in his head won't be quiet. It can't shut up for one minute. He's beginning to wonder if it really does just wants to fuck with him.

(_with bella make her pay so fucking hard yes that's it_)

He blows out a heavy breath and pulls the door open after deciding Sam hasn't earned the courtesy of him knocking—no that's not right, that's not how Jacob thinks. But he already has the door open and is stepping over the threshold. "Sam?" Good. At least he can control his voice even though he wants to let the wolf howl at him. Great fucking good that would do.

Sam comes into view and greets him with an irritatingly calm and collected, "Jacob." He's fully dressed for once and looks completely in control of himself.

(_he gets it done how it's supposed to be_) (_don't care_)

At a closer look, Jacob guesses his Almighty Alpha sees what a mess he's in. Sam confirms it. "You look like shit - have you slept at all?"

Of course Jacob is instantly going up in flames of fury red and hot. "I would if I fucking _could_, you smug ass. A little warning would've been nice, you know? Just a little insight, something, anything, but no—no." And he's pacing now. "Because I can't have that, can I? Because you're too wrapped up in pussy and the last thing you want is for Leah to see and know you don't have any balls left holy fucking shit how could you not tell me this, Sam? Don't you think I could've used a little bit of a heads-up?"

(_fuck __**his**_ _shit up right fucking now do it_) (_shutupshutupshutup_)

Jacob is shaking again. The animal inside him is taking over completely and there doesn't seem to a damn thing he can do about it, and he can't even fuck something up to get the satisfaction of _some_ form of outlet because that means giving in which in turn means _it_wins and he just won't have that.

"Fuck's sake, Jake, what's your problem?"

Simple. He needs to keep it simple. "I can't jerk the fuck off because apparently I need my imprint." Like his sperm is blessed be and Bella is the fucking Goddess of Fertility and he's suddenly part of some ancient sect of Chosen But Fucked Up Ones. If his junk is that goddamn sacred then how is it he can come down her throat or in her hand or in his fucking pants? Talk about illogical bullshit... except what if he can't anymore?

(_ha ha ha see what I did there what you gonna do now fuckass show me what you got tell me now what i'm saving my special mini-jakies for huh yeah thought so_)

Seriously... mini-Jakies? What the fuck is he on?

(_bella bella bella_) (_unbefuckinglievable_)

Sam's mouth is hanging open a little bit in apparent bewilderment as he watches Jacob pace back and forth like a caged animal. "That's... I'm sorry?"

Jacob whirls on his heel and glares. "You're sorry? You're _sorry_?" He stalks up into Sam's personal space, thinks better of it with what little is left of his mind, and takes a step back. "You don't think that was some important information for me to know?"

Now Sam is shaking his head, incomprehension plain on his face. "Jacob... _I _didn't know."

Well, great. That's just fucking perfect. Of course he didn't know. He _lives _with his imprint (_the way I should_) (_she's eighteen I'm sixteen do the fucking math_) and so of course Sam has never ever had to jerk off or tear up his room or run like he's training for the Pack Olympics and he hates him, _hates _Sam.

Moving with caution, Sam walks to the little kitchen and opens a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Scotch. "Look. I have no idea what's going on but if you don't get rest soon you're going to be out of your mind. I _do _have an idea of what it's like to have imprint trouble, remember?"

Oh. Right. They didn't always live together, duh.

"Drink this and pass out, man." Sam proffers the bottle. "All of it at once, just chug it or you won't even get a buzz with the metabolism issues. Emily and I have to go up to the Makah rez for her cousin's birthday party, so we'll be gone for a while, okay? You can stay here 'til we get back."

Jacob stares at the bottle in his hands, turning it around and around as if he'll find some ancient wisdom on the back of its label. It finally occurs to him that he's been an asshole, so he mutters a sullen, "Sorry. Thanks."

Sam claps him on the shoulder. "It's fine. We'll be back later. Get some rest for God's sake."

Jacob nods, keeping his head down even when he responds to Emily's cheery greeting as she hustles out the door in front of Sam. When he hears her car pull away from the house, he sits on the couch and does precisely what his Alpha ordered.

It doesn't take him long to get dragged under by exhaustion.

"Jake?"

Blearily, Jacob blinks his eyes open and looks up. It's Bella, looking down at him over the back of the couch, one hand on his shoulder. "Bells?"

"Hey." She walks around to sit down next to his stomach and run her fingers through his hair. It feels so good he closes his eyes again. "I asked Mrs. Newton if I could get off early after all. I was worried about you. We haven't talked in a while. But when I got here, you weren't in the garage and... How'd you end up here?"

There's a tiny remnant of a buzz left over from the Scotch, enough that Jacob doesn't flinch when the wolf growls at her (_about fucking time_). "I missed you," he says for both of them, ignoring her question. Capturing her fingers in one hand, he draws them down so he can kiss her palm (_bite it_) (_shut up you sick fuck_).

"I missed you too." Bella leans over him and presses her face to his neck. "So much."

Instantly, Jacob's suffused with rage, and he can't tell if it's from him or the wolf (_you didn't miss me enough you're never here never close enough_), and that scares him all over again. He tamps it down, shuts off the shuddering that wants to take over his hands, and concentrates on the human things. Pretty hair, big eyes, soft voice, easy blush. Bella things, the things he liked _before._

Her lips press into the skin above his jugular in a kiss, though, and that's a little more than he can handle. He's hard again and hurting and he loves her _so much _and suddenly he's got a fistful of hair and she's sprawled on top of him while he ravages her mouth hard enough to hurt his lips. While he tries to find the wherewithal to pull back, gentle the pressure, he dimly registers that her heartbeat's sped up exponentially and she smells ready, right now, for him to bury himself inside her.

(_do it do it that's how she wants it_) (_no that's how you want it_ _you not me not her_)

Bella's gyrating on top of him, pushing herself against his length, and he would be worried about coming in his pants if he didn't know that probably isn't possible anymore. He can't stop kissing her, holding her where he needs her. His free hand works its way down her side. When he digs his fingers into her ass, hard, she cries out into his mouth. That gives him the impetus he needs to rip his head away, but when he looks at her, he sees her face has taken on that deep red flush she always shows right before she comes. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she grinds herself into his erection, following the harsh prompting of his hand.

Huh. Maybe he _isn't _the only one who's had a hard time the past few days.

Not like this though. This is too much like what the wolf wants. He flips them over, cradling her in his arms, and kisses her more softly this time. Some of the pre-orgasmic tension drains out of her when he does, and her heart slows, but that's a good thing, right? It shouldn't all be over in less than five minutes, probably.

(_tear her clothes off show her who she answers to_) (_this isn't a zoo I'm not an animal_) (_yeah right_)

Slow. And gentle. He'll show the _wolf _who's in charge. Show the wolf, not Bella, because that's (_the way things are_)… wrong to contemplate.

Jacob kisses Bella's jaw, working his way down her neck. She sighs and turns her head to give him easier access, but that's a mistake on her part, because all that vulnerable skin is just _begging _him to sink his teeth into it.

(_bite her mark her everyone who looks should know_)

With a massive effort, Jacob refrains from obeying the urge and keeps moving down, pulling her tank top and camisole up as he goes. When his lips reach her exposed stomach, she shivers, helping him move the clothes up and over her head. Turns out, that's a misjudgment too; her tender belly lying completely exposed before him makes the urge to exact retribution even more powerful.

"Sit up," he orders, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.

Bella's eyes fly open, but she obeys, moving upright as he gets out of her way. He kneels on the floor in front of her. She asks skeptically, "Are you sure Sam and Emily are gone? What if they walk in on us?"

(_let them he should see I'm strong not weak and all of them will understand_) (_pervert that's disgusting_) (_you like it_)

"They won't," he assures her, although he has no reason to believe anything of the sort. At that, she goes for her jeans button herself, eagerly freeing her legs from their confines. When she reaches to push her underwear down, though, he grabs her wrist and says, "No, leave them on."

Shit. He's holding her too hard again—

But when he looks into her face, her eyelids have gotten heavy and her lips have parted as she pants.

(_this is what she likes_) (_no that's sick and she's not_)

He loosens his fingers and she relaxes. Slow and gentle slow and gentle. Bearing that in mind, Jacob leans forward and takes one pert nipple into his mouth, sucking it carefully (_don't hurt her_) (_why not?_). Bella sighs again and leans back, offering him greater access. "Oh God, Jake... that feels so good."

There. See? She said it feels good. He's on the right track. The wolf howls its derision (_what are you waiting for do it finish the job_) and that just spurs him on. He kisses down her belly again, pausing at her bellybutton to lave the little indentation and make her giggle, and then down to her thighs. Her knees part in anticipation. Just to tease her, he kisses her kneecaps over and over until she makes a tiny noise of frustration and scoots closer to the edge while tugging his hair. That's when he realizes the denial has turned into a control thing (_make her pay_) and defiantly kisses up her inner leg.

Her legs spread wider; the scent of her arousal hits him like a brick to the face. Without thinking, he grabs her ass again in the exact same way he did before and buries his teeth into the sensitive spot halfway to his destination. _Too hard too hard_...

Except she moans, and it doesn't sound hurt. He can smell the gush of wetness, arousal in response to the pain. What... the... this has to be something the wolf has done to _her_, like when he backed her against that tree and took her virginity in one hard push and she didn't mind. It's not really _Bella, _is it?

He releases her from the bite and sucks it a little. She moans again, louder this time.

Fuck that. He won't let it trick him this way. Slow and _gentle, _damn it. Moving upward, he licks the hem of her underwear, tracing just under its edges with the tip of his tongue. Bella's hand cups the back of his head and presses him closer, trying to redirect him. That pisses the wolf off even worse, so Jacob goes with her silent guidance. He fastens his lips around the right spot, sucking her through the fabric, and this time she writhes.

"More, Jake, more, please," she begs.

Drawing her underwear down to her ankles, he returns to the place he knows she wants him to be, sucking and licking where she's swollen and so so wet. Bella's making sounds he's never heard come out of her mouth, straining beneath him, and for a second he forgets and that's when he shoves three fingers into her at once.

It's too much, too sudden. She flinches at the invasion but the words she keens contradict that reaction: "Yes, oh God, yes, hard, like that, oh," and she pushes herself against his head and his hand as fiercely as she can, whining, "harder harder harder please God I can't" and somehow he's got his whole hand in her and she comes more intensely than he's ever seen or felt her come before. She literally screams his name as the muscles inside clench around him.

Ha. Take _that_, wolf. He made Bella come and he didn't even get himself off when he did it. _Now _who's in charge? The human, that's who. Sure, he's aching so badly it feels like he should be glowing down there and he's got absolutely no blood flow in any other part of his body but he _won._

Jacob angles himself up and over Bella, who's blinking dazedly and obviously trying to gather her thoughts. When he kisses her on the mouth, she responds with wholehearted enthusiasm.

"That was—that was—" She's clearly at a loss for words, biting her lip and smiling. But then her expression changes. Instead of biting her lip, the pink tip of her tongue runs along its edge and retreats. "Oh."

Jacob freezes. Something in her tone of voice warns him that he's about to be blindsided.

"Is that..." Bella begins, trails off, and then whispers, "Is that what _I _taste like?" She's blushing even brighter red... but the embarrassment doesn't stop her from leaning up and licking his skin, gentle sweeps at the corner of his mouth, lapping up the fluid she left there in a diffident bid to sample her own flavor once more.

She is licking. herself. off. his. Lips.

_(ohgodyes fuck her)_

_(yes)_

Bella's eyes widen when he shoves her away. "Jake? Did I—" But her words are cut off when Jacob grabs her arms and flips her over so hard he can hear the hissing rush as the breath knocks out of her lungs.

_(yesyesyes)_

His fingers dig into the flesh of her hips and he yanks (so much rougher than he needs to) and barely waits for Bella's knees to hit the floor before he forces his thigh between her legs and spreads her open and holy fuck she is _so_ready.

"Jacob—"

_(jacob's not in at the moment if you'd like to leave a message)_

For someone who's had so much practice at getting his shorts on and off in a hurry, it takes _(way too fucking long) _more time than it should to shove his pants down. His shaking hands don't get them further than mid-thigh, just far enough to free his erection and he's going to finally _(make her sorry) _get what _(make her see) _he needs _(make her stay)_—

She screams into the sofa cushion when he shoves in balls-deep with one thrust.

_(yesyesyes like that show her)_

He wishes it was self-control that made him stay still for the next moment, or loving consideration, wanting to give her time to adjust. It isn't. He's just trying not to shoot his load instantly.

_(soft wet tight this needed this needed her what the fuck is wrong with you could've had this hours ago days ago could have this all the time keep her with you soft wet tight every fucking day)_

She squirms and his fingers dig into her sides.

_(like that so good)_

Oh, God, please let him not be hurting her too much.

_(the way it's meant to be done)_

The rush through his brain and body _(soul) _is so hot and bright _(exactly where you should be where she should be) _that he barely notices _(take her fuck her show her) _she's pressing herself back against him _(yesyesyes) _her firm ass rubbing against his stomach. "Jake—" he can barely hear her, is she being quiet or is she talking into the cushions or is she still out of breath "—more—"

_(she doesn't get to ask)_

He leans down over her back _(clear white skin mark it) _moves one hand to the nape of her neck _(hold her) _and pushes her flat against the sofa, effectively pinning her in place. "Don't move."

That cannot be his voice.

Bella nods. It's the only movement she's able to make.

_(how it's going to be how it has to be how it's meant to be)_

"You're not going to leave again."

She shakes her head.

_(now show her what happens if she stays away)_

Her cunt feels so perfect wrapped around his cock and this is the wettest she's even been.

_(told you)_

_(yeah, but I don't have to like it)_

_(yes, actually, you do.)_

He fucks her so hard his hamstrings burn with the force of it and he leaves bite marks all over her back and _(soft wet tight mine)_ he's not that interested in holding out because _(take her again in twenty minutes ten minutes five if you want) _holy fuck he has needed this so badly and he's so tired and every part of him is in pieces but Bella _(bella) _Bella knows how to put him back together.

She's sobbing into the couch cushion and please oh please oh please let that be the good kind of sobbing because Jacob's pretty sure he can't stop.

_(keep going show her make her understand need her want her love her love herloveherloveher)_

The pressure rises through his abdomen and he's broken the skin of her shoulder blade and the taste of copper fills his mouth and he's not sure she can breathe and in about twenty seconds he's going to fucking hate himself but—

—oh _(fuckyes) _he's doing something right because _(fuckyes) _her shaking body is pulling him in deeper and _(fuck) _tighter and he knows what those _(yes) _spasms inside her mean—

Every muscle in his body contracts as he comes.

_(yes that's it that's it exactly.)_

Five minutes later Jacob basically wants to die. It's not until he feels Bella's cool little fingers stroking the back of his neck that he thinks he might, one day, eventually, in time, be able to raise his face from his knees.

"Jake? Are you okay?"

_(very okay) (oh fuck off)_

"Are you hurt?" he asks instead of replying. Fuck, he's still half-hard. His life is in fucking pieces and his cock's already thinking about Round Two.

He hears her shift. "I could use an aspirin," she admits.

Jacob groans.

Bella slides off the couch to sit next to him on the floor (she's probably wincing but he can't bring himself to look up to see); there's fabric brushing his arm and that means she's pulled her shirt back down _(tell her to take it off rip it if she doesn't) (you got what you wanted asshole now leave me alone)._"Jake," she whispers again. "Why... why didn't you come to see me? If it was so bad, I mean?"

_(I don't want to be like him like this)_

_(yeah well you are)_

It takes a lot of coaxing before he'll cry into her hair instead of his hands.

**o~*iii*~o**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_Yes. Nara is headed in a slightly different direction than she usually would go. Suffice to say, this chapter would not have happened without the two amazing women/writers **MeraNaamJoker** & **audreyii-fic** whom I've been given the privilege to collaborate with. You both blow me right out of the water and I love you for it. Thank you for letting me write with you; it's been quite an experience, and one I hope to have again._

_To the rest: thank you for reading / reviewing this story. Snuggle-snorgles en masse._

_To be continued . . ._


	4. Get Out of This Town

_Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer_

* * *

><p><strong>Get Out of This Town<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Get to the ocean 'fore I run too low  "You're A Wolf," by Sea Wolf_

* * *

><p><strong>o~*iii*~o<strong>

Even in his sleep, Jacob senses when Bella shifts to slip out of her bed. Not so strange, considering how small it is. Far too small for him, so with Bella there, space is tight. Not that he minds having her pressed up against his naked body.

His arms enfold her, and one leg cocks over hers, keeping her with him. "Not yet," he mumbles.

"I have to, Jake. The plane leaves in six hours and I'm not even packed yet."

"Throw some underwear and shirts in a bag. Takes five minutes."

She elbows him in the ribs. "You are such a guy."

"Yep." He doesn't even bother faking pain in response to the light tickle her nudge produces. "And I'm right." Whatever protest she was about to verbalize is muffled by his mouth. Gently, he rolls them, pulling her onto him. He only breaks the kiss long enough to tell her, "I love you, Bells," looking her in the eye as he does so.

He doesn't let her go until he's showed her in every possible way he knows how.

_(we'll make her regret this) (...)_

Hell will freeze over before Jacob lets the demon inside take control again. Bella is allowed to go visit her mom and Jacob will just deal with it—fucked up intruders, be damned.

**o~*iii*~o**

In spite of Jacob's best efforts to go about his daily routine—be it patrols, chores around the house or lazy lounging when he runs out of motivation or obligations—not even one week without Bella, and he's all but climbing the walls again.

_(told you) (oh will you shut up)_

At least he leaves the furnishings alone. And the new cell phone, since the ancient relic in the kitchen leaves him little privacy to talk to Bella when she calls. He can't help it, but those calls are the highlight of his day, and without them he'd go insane—like the state of his mind wasn't already fucked.

**o~*iii*~o**

Bella shifts restlessly in the lumpy full-size bed, staring at the ceiling. Sure, it's only nine o'clock back home, so this is pretty early for her (especially since she started dating a werewolf who keeps odd hours). That's not the real reason she's awake, though. Ever since she stepped onto the jetway at Sea-Tac, she's been worried about Jake. After the one time she let too many days go by in a row without seeing him, she's been careful, careful not to work too many nights in a row, careful not to go _anywhere _without calling first to give him a heads-up so he doesn't make himself crazy again. Careful. But when Renée called to tell her that she'd bought the ticket to Jacksonville during an amazingly cheap online promotion, and the only catch was that she would have to come on a Thursday and leave on a Saturday, she accepted before she thought. Forks isn't usually _that _rainy during the summertime, but she's never hot anymore (except when she's with Jake), and she misses being hot.

Now, though, it's Monday, and the restlessness that's keeping her from falling asleep is only rivaled by the insistent throb between her legs. She'd like to believe she's not completely dependent on what she and Jacob do, but she's starting to wonder whether or not she's just been fooling herself on that score. Unlike Jacob, she can still take care of herself even when they're not together—poor guy, he tried to explain it to her but all this imprinting stuff is impossibly contradictory and despite being good with weird she doesn't get that part—but it leaves her feeling empty and vaguely dissatisfied so she doesn't bother most of the time. She's pretty sure that she won't be able to sleep if she doesn't do _something_, though_. _

She reaches for her phone and checks the time. 12:17 a.m. She texts Jake: _AYT?_

Less than thirty seconds later, her phone vibrates. _Yeah. Miss u._

Well, maybe she doesn't have to do it _completely _alone. A blush climbs her face at the thought of what she's about to suggest, but this is _Jake. _If there's anybody who's safe to be dirty with, it's him. Still, at the last minute she chickens out and opts to ask him to make the first move. _Miss you too. Call me?_

The phone starts buzzing almost immediately. Bella smiles as she hits the button. "Hi."

"Hey, Bells."

She sighs with relief as some of the tension seeps from her muscles at the sound of his voice. "How are you?"

His tone is determinedly even when he replies, "Fine. Are you having fun with your mom?"

Bella ignores this inconsequentiality to ask, "How are you really, Jake?"

There's a long silence, during which she can practically see the misery and self-directed rage battle it out on his face. He can never hide anything from her, not for long, and distance doesn't affect that.

"Not great," Jake finally admits.

Bella frowns, picking at the threadbare elastic of her panties. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

It is, though. Jacob's been blaming himself since the moment he started turning into a wolf, but he's a neophyte when it comes to this. Bella is the _master_ of self-flagellation. If she'd stayed home, Jake wouldn't be hurting right now.

There's a slight scuffling in the background. She imagines him walking around his too-small room, kicking a laundry basket out of the way. Her heart aches. Then she thinks of what would happen if she were there... and the ache moves lower.

"I have an idea," she says shyly, "that might help."

"Help?" A low, slightly bitter chuckle. "I'm all ears, Bells."

Okay. Here goes nothing. "What are you doing right now?"

A pause. "Pacing." His tone is both wry and reluctant. "Kinda having trouble sitting still."

So she was right. He probably hasn't slept since she left. "You should lie down."

"I've tried, I swear. I just get right back up again."

It probably doesn't help that he hasn't gotten a new bed yet. He won't admit why, but Bella knows it's because they can't afford it. She's been trying to think of a way to help out in a way that won't offend both him and Billy, since she's the reason the last one got destroyed.

"_I'm_ laying down," she offers.

That earns her a chuckle. "Got over the jet lag that fast?"

"No, I'm not tired. I'm just... laying down." Bella's fingers skirt just a little slower, her fingernails dipping below the waistband of her underwear. "I'm a little restless, actually."

"I know the feeling."

She swallows and lowers her voice. "Yeah." The throb between her legs gets stronger. "I think you do."

The shuffling in the background comes to an abrupt halt. She imagines Jacob's expression as he catches on... then she hears his breath hitch. "Oh."

Bella can't help it. She grins.

**o~*iii*~o**

Okay, Bells _cannot_ be thinking what he thinks she's thinking. Except, Jacob really hopes she is, because he was already painfully hard to begin with, and at the moment he's got it even worse.

"_Now _are you lying down?" she wants to know, and he immediately collapses on the battered remains of his mattress, pulling the elastic of his boxers out of the way almost before he's prone.

"Yes," he barely remembers to answer.

"Good." She giggles. "I feel kind of strange doing this. Like embarrassed, I mean."

"No no no," he interjects, half-frantic. "No, you shouldn't feel embarrassed, you're pretty much the best girl ever for doing this. Swear to God."

(_Pussy. You let her go.)_

_(Shut the fuck up. In about ten minutes you'll get what you want.)_

She makes a particular noise, the same whimper-moan that she makes _every time _he first brushes across her clit when they're together, and his hand closes around his cock before he realizes he's reached for it. _Fuck. _This had better work or he doesn't know what he'll do. Maybe turn into a Tasmanian Devil instead of a werewolf and tear the forest up instead of chasing leeches through it.

Even though he knows what she's doing, he asks anyway, and his voice has gone hoarse. "What're you doing?"

"... Thinking."

In spite of the ache and the simmering fury (_she left me left me didn't even ask before she just took off_), he snorts a little with laughter. "_Thinking?_"

"Yes," she says defensively. "About... that one time. In the shower."

Any desire to laugh fades away. His hand starts to move up and down slowly. "Which time in the shower?" He quickly flits through the memories—they were all good, but there was one time that was particularly—

"When you, um, bent me over and made me hold onto my ankles?" she offers, breathless, although he can't tell whether it's with lust or embarrassment. Knowing his Bells, probably both.

(_Okay, maybe five minutes.)_

"Holy shit. Yeah, that time _was _awesome," he agrees, pumping faster. "What was your favorite part?"

**o~*iii*~o**

Bella hesitates at the question. She's already so far out of her comfort zone that she might as well be naked in a snowstorm. But then she hears him groan throatily and feels a corresponding rush of wetness beneath her own fingers, and that makes her braver. "I liked the whole thing, but, uh, I really liked before you turned me around, when you were doing that thing with my nipples?"

"You like that?" He sounds a little incredulous, and she frowns.

"Couldn't you tell?" One hand lifts to slide under her t-shirt, and her fingers fasten on her nipple just like his did. Oh _God. _She whimpers again as she pulls and kneads, roughly the way he did that night. (It was one of those times when she pushed his tolerance a little too far—three days is the outside of his limits as far as her being absent goes. She wonders now why she didn't think about that when her mom called to tell her about the ticket. _I know how much he needs me. Selfish._)

"No. I mean, yeah, I could, but..."

"But what?" She digs her fingers into the roundness of her flesh, hard enough that it might leave bruises the way it did last time. The pleasure-pain is something she's come to associate with Jacob. It's _good_.

"I just... I figured it was too much, that time."

Bella chews on her lip for a moment, holding back a moan. Her room is in the basement of the split-level house, but Phil and Renee won't have gone to bed yet. Better not be too loud. "It wasn't."

A muffled _mmph_ from the phone. It's the sound Jacob makes when she deep-throats him without warning. It's one of her favorite sounds in the world. "I'll... uh... I'll remember that."

"Good." She's almost embarrassingly wet now. Wet enough to add a second finger down below, and then a third, stroking up and down between her folds, rubbing irregularly across her clit the way Jake does it when he's too eager for finesse. That eagerness is one of the biggest turn-ons she's ever felt.

Maybe it's not fair, to benefit so much from something that he hates and can't control, but she _loves_ how much he needs her.

She's worked up enough now that her shyness has faded, and it takes nothing to brazenly ask, "What was _your_ favorite part of the shower?"

**o~*iii*~o**

Jacob has to take his hands off himself, and he wants to weep with relief. He's having to work _not _to come. Thank fucking _God._

Bella liked it that he had grabbed her tits and squeezed them so hard that he'd left bright red marks on her milk-white skin. She'd _liked_ it.

Okay, yeah, he remembers that she came, but thanks to the imprint he can make her come easily, that didn't mean she _liked_ it, but apparently she _did_...

_(of course she liked it rough she's yours isn't she?)_

_(not as rough as __**you**__ want it, asshole)_

_(that's not how i remember it)_

"Jake?"

He shoves the fucked-up intruder out of his mind. "Sorry, Bells, what did you say?"

"I asked what your favorite part of that time was."

Her tits. Her ass. The way the water had run down her back in little rivers... "How tight you were," he manages to say, remembering how it had actually been almost hard to slide into her, and the friction when he finally did. How he'd felt every little tremor and squeeze...

...shit, he might shoot his load without even touching himself. Normally that would be embarrassing, but right now he's just so fucking _grateful._

"Really? It was different than usual?"

"Yeah." There's no help for it; if he's gonna come, he's gonna do it properly. He wraps his hand back around himself—wow, he's not sure he's ever been this hard, there's gotta be a point where it's unhealthy or something, but it's not like he can just see a doctor and explain that his cock is addicted to his supernaturally declared soul mate—and strokes forcefully. "The position, I guess. Or... or something. It just... uh, worked. It felt _really_ fucking good, Bells."

He almost explodes when he hears her quiet whimper.

**o~*iii*~o**

Bella is suddenly really, really grateful for those six months of ballet lessons when she was eight, and the flexibility that has always remained as a result. It wasn't easy to stay in the position he put her, that time, and the water running down her back and into her nose and mouth made things interesting, but if it made him feel _that _good then it was so worth it. Well, and the orgasm he gave her made it pretty worthwhile too. "It _was _really good," she agrees, speeding up her movements and taking advantage of that flexibility to push a little deeper with her fingers. "Oh, God, Jake, I came so hard, I'm so close—"

"Oh fuck, honey, me too." His voice has gone thick and deep. She knows that particular timbre: he's about to come, is right on the edge. Before she can come up with the right thing to say to push him over, he says roughly, "I want you to come first, Bella. Go on, honey. Come for me."

As if her body's trained to act on his orders (and really, it kind of is at this point), she trembles into her orgasm, clamping down with her thighs around her hands and gritting her teeth as she moans between them, "Oh, oh, oh, yes, Jake, yes..." until she can't talk anymore and just whines a little instead. On the other end of the line, she hears his rhythmic, muted noises as he comes too, and it makes her smile with satisfaction even though she's completely exhausted.

As soon as the high fades, though, her throat closes up and her eyes fill with tears. She fumbles for the phone and croaks, "Jake?"

There's complete quiet on the other end for a long moment, and then a flat, "Yeah."

"I just..." She folds her lips in on each other, trying to figure out what to tell him, and at last settles for, "Um... do you feel better?" _Because I sure as hell don't right now. _

"Well, I'm pretty sure I can walk again without humiliating myself," he tries to joke, but it's a feeble attempt.

The emptiness in her chest—different from the hole Edward left behind, but there all the same—spreads. The corners of her mouth feel weighted down with sadness. "I miss you. _So much._" When he doesn't answer, she adds, "This was a terrible idea. Maybe I should talk to my mom and ask her if she can change the ticket—"

"No, Bells, don't do that—"

"No, it's fine, I never should have done this to you. It was so selfish. All I need to do is maybe charge the fee on my credit card—"

"That's... you shouldn't do that, Bella—"

"I can't stand to hear you this way. I'm just going to do it, first thing in the morning—"

"For fuck's sake, Bella, _just stay there. _I'm not a fucking baby, goddammit!"

Dead silence.

Her hand trembles around the phone as she whispers, "Okay. I'm... I'm sorry."

"No." Now he sounds defeated. She _hates _when he feels like the wolf has won. It's so hard on his pride. "I can't believe I just did that. You don't deserve to be treated that way."

It freaks her out a little that she has to think about it before she decides he's right. "You can tell the wolf I said, 'screw you,'" she teases, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Yeah. That's exactly what he wants," he says, and he sounds so sad that she wishes there was some way to crawl through the phone line and hold him.

"Okay. If you don't want me to come home—or, I mean, if you want me to stay with my mom," she hurriedly corrects when he starts to protest, "then maybe... you should come here?"

This time the silence has a different quality to it. She knows he's thinking it over.

**o~*iii*~o**

Unwillingness to go isn't what makes Jacob hesitate—of course he _wants_ to see, feel, touch his Bells—but rather it's the internal conflicts.

He should be able to _function_ without her. He should be able to go at least _one fucking day_ without feeling like he's about to go insane—wait. Scratch that. He already _is _insane. Because of all this supernatural psycho bullshit. He's willing to bet that his brothers—the guys that are _not_ imprinted—don't have these problems. Okay. So he _can_ get off without Bella being right here, but everything else... it's not _right _without being able to roll over afterwards and stroke her stomach and smell her skin...

Why the _fuck_ can't he just _fix it? _

Since he isn't answering, Bella finally speaks. She sounds as exhausted as he feels. "Do you want to think about it and, I don't know, maybe if you try to sleep—" A pause. "I can call you tomorrow."

"It's not that I don't want to," he quickly assures her. "It's just..." He tries to think of some not-pathetic way to explain this, then gives up. There's really no way to make it anything except what it is. "I ought to be able to handle not seeing you for a week, Bells."

_(hah)_

God, this is _so _fucked up.

Jake leans back on the mattress and kicks the now less-than-pristine sheets out of the way and waits for Bella to say _This is all way too much for me and I think I'd like to have a normal relationship with a guy who doesn't lose his mind when I'm out of arm's reach, thank you._

But then he hears a long, slow breath on the other side of the line. "Maybe _I_ can't handle not seeing _you_ for a week," she says quietly.

Jacob blinks.

Oh.

That's different.

_(told you, you moron)_

"Let me check with Sam and see what's what," Jake says, "and I'll get back to you in the morning."

_(about fucking time)_

**o~*iii*~o**

Bella checks the monitors outside the security gates again, just to be sure the flight still says ON TIME. It does, and this is the fifteenth time she's looked. Finally the display switches to AT GATE and she sighs with relief. Sure, she just maxed out her credit card, but she got a decent last-minute deal (who flies out on a _Wednesday, _after all) and this way her mom gets to meet Jake and... Yeah. She's not even fooling herself; she needed him here just as badly as he needed her.

Imprinting is really weird. She _knows _the minute he steps off the plane, and she feels him getting closer with every step he takes. It's as if the distance between them has sharpened her perceptions on that score, because she doesn't remember being so aware of his movements back home. So Bella's not surprised at all when she catches his face in the crowd of deplaning passengers streaming out of the terminal toward her.

She is surprised, however, at his response.

Jake completely forgets, for the first time ever, to watch his speed in public. One second he's just past the signs telling her to stop, this is a secure area, and the next second he's right in front of her and his arms are so tight around her sides that she can barely breathe.

"Jake," she chokes out. "Can't breathe..." But her arms close around him too.

He loosens his grip minutely, but only so he can slide his hands down, skirting perilously close to grabbing her ass in public. She probably wouldn't mind if he did, but it's not very like him. "Missed you," he mumbles into her shoulder.

"Missed you too," Bella tells him, holding him tighter. "I'm really, really glad you decided to come down here with me."

He goes still, and then admits, "I kind of didn't decide. Sam told me to come. I guess I'm driving everybody else nuts."

"Don't they understand? Half of them are imprinted too."

"Uh..." Now he lifts his head to meet her gaze. Guilt clamps around her chest when she sees the dark circles surrounding his eyes, and the way his face has grown a little hollow. He doesn't look as if he's been eating, even. "I guess none of them react the same way I do? They don't seem to, anyway. Emily went up to help her sister at the Makah rez for a week and Sam didn't even seem to notice. Well, that's not really true, but he didn't... I'm weird."

"Good thing," she teases, wrapping one arm around his waist and starting to lead him to the car. "Otherwise you wouldn't want me, 'cause I'm weird too."

"No you're not," he contradicts her. He's looking her over from head to toe. It started out as a reassurance to himself, that she was fine—she knows that because he does it every occasion they meet again after spending time apart—but now the look has turned into something else. Something she knows very well, and it makes her shiver with anticipation.

Abruptly, he grabs her upper arm and drags her into a recessed area in the wall that only leads to a door with a pin pad next to it. Bella catches her breath as her back hits the concrete behind her, but the slight pain from the impact is overwhelmed by the arousal that floods her in response to his dilated pupils and predatory expression. He drops his hand before his grip grows too tight (_just tight enough_ thinks the part of her that loves this) but his gaze still roves over her entire body as if he's cataloging things away and coming to a decision.

"Jake?" she whispers. Whatever she might have added is cut off by the fierce pressure of his lips on her own. _Ooohhh. _He nips at her and she opens up in silent apology, giving his tongue the access he demands. His fingertips are digging so hard into her sides now that they're going to leave marks, and that's good, that's _perfect, _he should be able to see the proof of the effect he has on her. She moves to slide her arms around his neck, but he growls in rebuke, reaching for her wrists and holding them behind her with one hand.

Bella almost gives in, but at the last minute, as his mouth moves away from hers and starts moving down her jaw and to her neck, leaving little stings behind with each bite, she remembers where they are and gasps, "We shouldn't do this here. There's—we're going to get arrested or something. We should go to the car."

His body rocks against her. For a moment she thinks he'll disregard everything else, but then he pulls away completely. The sudden cold that rushes in as his heat recedes makes her shiver again.

Jacob, face expressionless, says, "Lead the way."

Bella can't decide whether or not she did the right thing, but she smiles at him anyway and walks toward the exit while he follows.

**o~*iii*~o**

_(fuck her now who the fuck cares who fucking sees they should all fucking see)_

_(you won't be thinking that when she and i are in separate cells)_

Jacob hopes that Bella's parked close by, because he's about to do some serious damage to his pants and pants don't just grow on trees.

The airport seems to be complicated in a way _designed _to thwart him. (The Seattle airport didn't make much sense, either... but then, he'd never actually flown before. The security guys had been a little nervous about the guy with dark skin who had to duck to get through the metal detector, especially given that the age on his ID seemed ridiculously low. If he hadn't been so anxious to get to Jacksonville it would've been pretty funny.) Bella seems to know where she's going, at least. And her soft, cool little hand hasn't stopped gripping his.

He can smell how turned on she is.

_(serves her right for going away she shouldn't get to come this time make her wait)_

The hell with _that_.

Bella comes to a stop in the middle of the terminal and frowns up at a directional sign that doesn't actually give directions, near as he can tell. "Okay, I _think_ I left the car in Lot B."

"You _think?_" Jacob says, his voice squeaking in a distinctly less-than-manly fashion. If it takes longer than three more minutes to get to the car he's going to spontaneously combust. He's already praying to every god he can think of (and a few he made up) that Renee owns a minivan, because sex in the backseat of a sedan's gonna be complicated.

Not that _complicated_ is going to stop him, of course...

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty sure." Bells gives him an adorably sheepish look. "Sorry... I didn't pay much attention. I was pretty distracted on the way here."

"No problem," he manages to say, swallowing back the wolf-fueled frustration. _(she's doing this on purpose) _After all, he was _distracted_ enough on the flight in that he'd had to keep his tray table down for the entire five hours so the little old lady sitting next to him wouldn't notice his hard-on and alert the flight attendant that she wanted to change her seat to get away from the pervert.

Finally Bella nods in a satisfied fashion. "Yeah. It was Lot B, on the third floor. I remember now." She glances towards a sign pointing to Baggage Claim, then says in a slightly desperate voice, "You didn't bring any luggage, did you?"

He wordlessly shrugs his backpack on his shoulder.

Her smile is definitely relieved. "Oh. Good. 'Cause waiting for suitcases can take half an hour, sometimes... and that would be kind of a long wait." She blushes as she strokes her ring finger along the inside of his wrist.

Fuck half an hour. He's waited almost a _week_. Jake leans down and presses his lips to her ear, feeling a delicious shudder run through her body. "The car, Bells?" he whispers.

_(you pussy take her __**now**__)_

_(sure, yeah, in front of the five year old by the window and the nuns by the newspaper stand. brilliant idea.)_

Bella swallows. "Right. Yeah. This way." And she pulls him in the direction of the elevator.

An _elevator._

Oh. Thank. _God._

**o~*iii*~o**

Jake's hands are under her shirt almost before the metal doors slide closed, and Bella sends up a short prayer that whoever's watching the security cameras is on a break. Then she forgets about security altogether when he yanks her shirt up to confirm what his hands have already discovered: she didn't bother with a bra today. (She's sacrificed more than a few to his eagerness when they've reunited after a few days apart.)

"Bella," he breathes. She suppresses a smug surge of gratification at his rapt attention directed at her chest. His expression flickers, turns to confusion, when he twists her slightly and traces the outer swell of her breast with one finger. Bella moans shakily, but Jake's not doing it to turn her on. "What the hell?"

Glancing down, she sees the faint bruises she left on her own skin. "Oh. Yeah. The other night, when we were—you know?" He nods. "I was just remembering how you touched me and, um, I can't do it like you but I guess I got close."

Jacob looks for another second, and then ducks to run his tongue over the marks just before the elevator dings and draws to a halt on the second floor. Bella jumps away with a squeak, trying to pull her shirt down, but as the doors slide open Jacob stops her hands in their tracks. Astounded, she stares up at him and mouths, "What are you _doing_?"

In answer, he moves to back her into the corner of the elevator. Behind him, she can hear people filing on, making low-voiced conversation, but all her attention is on his hands, which are currently palming both of her breasts. The breath rushes in her throat, thin and way too fast. Logically she knows that he's tall and broad enough to block the view of everyone else around them. That doesn't stop the fear of discovery... or the corresponding surge of involuntarily arousal. She looks at his face: he's watching his thumbs as they sweep across her nipples. The elevator begins to slow again, and just before the bell dings again he pinches them, hard, between thumbs and forefingers.

Bella's knees almost give out underneath her.

Jacob pulls her shirt down and steps aside to let her go first into the parking garage. They have to take a glassed-in pedestrian walkway to the actual lot. The entire time she's scurrying ahead of him, she's half-afraid, half-hopeful he'll do something right here, suspended above the rush of cars, buses, and hotel shuttles trying to get to the terminal, but he seems to have decided to wait.

When they get to the dark, relatively cool garage, she stops and peers around, looking for something familiar to use as a landmark. Usually she's conscientious about noting the lot letter and row number, but she was in such a daze of frustrated lust by the time she got here that she honestly has no memory of walking from her mom's Highlander to the terminal. The painful ache radiating from between her thighs isn't helping with the concentration factor, either. Digging the key ring out of her pocket, she hits the lock button, but there are so many cars here, and owners unlocking and locking them, that it's impossible to tell which beep belongs to her.

"Bells." Jacob sounds desperate, and the heat that always pours off him seems to have risen exponentially. She wonders idly if it's possible to actually burn from someone else's skin. He's so close to her that sweat is gathering at the small of her back and beneath her hair in response.

"I know it's close by," she replies. Her own voice is strained.

He makes a noise that's very close to a snarl, and that worries her. He always feels so terrible when he loses control to the wolf (she seems to be the only one who understands he's _taking _control), and she really, really doesn't want him to feel ashamed again.

Maybe _she _should take charge for a minute. Or five.

"C'mere." Bella grabs his hand again and careens toward the farthest corner she can see: it's dark, with a big concrete column between the Expedition that's parked closest to the wall and the janitor's closet door. When they get there, she tugs until he's got his back against the column and then takes the backpack from his shoulder.

"What're you doing?" he demands hoarsely.

In answer, Bella reaches for his jeans button. Quick as a thought, his hand overlays hers, but just as she's wondering if he means to stop her, he instead undoes the button and pulls the zipper down.

_Whoa, _she thinks, feeling him through the fabric of his boxers, and then she pulls them out of the way and _whoa. _Just... wow. That does it; she's never leaving him again. First she curls her hand around him, and he gasps, then lets his head fall back as she moves up and down.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks, but realizes as she does so that he might not want to tell her. So instead, she goes down to her knees on the cold asphalt and takes him into her mouth.

He makes the exact noise he did on the phone—that one particular _mmph_. She would smile with satisfaction but all her attention needs to be directed elsewhere at the moment.

**o~*iii*~o**

Don't grab her head. Keep quiet. Don't grab her head. Keep quiet. Don't grab her head. Keep quiet.

Then Bella does that thing with her teeth.

Jacob shoves his hands into her hair and groans loud and long.

**o~*iii*~o**

Uh-oh. Jake's moan — sexy though it was — echoed _clearly_ against the concrete.

Bella pulls away with a little 'pop' and glances around quickly, checking to see if anyone's looking or God forbid running over. If they get caught Jacob will probably kill whoever it is that interferes — if Bella doesn't kill him or her first.

Thankfully there's no footsteps or any other sign that the various comers and goers of the garage have noticed two teenagers in a less-than-clothed state next to the emergency exit.

There's a growl overhead, and the fingers locked in her hair yank her closer. Bella opens her mouth obligingly and this time he takes control, moving rapidly past her lips, hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. But she's gotten lots of experience with that and it doesn't bother her anymore. Her gag reflex is a thing of the past.

Jake's quiet, hissing curses are absolutely soaking her panties; he's getting really into it, and as much fun as that is, Bella's starting to worry. The ache in her abdomen has become nearly unbearable. She braces her hands against his thighs, curls her fingers into his jeans, and hopes against hope that he'll last through her oral ministrations because if _she_ has to wait too much longer to get off then she might cry. A lot. Really messily.

Okay, yeah, _he_ needs it, but _she_ needs it too!

Bella can feel Jake's muscles tensing under her hands. Oh no. She tries to ease off but his fingers are still fisted in her hair, holding her as he pumps...

...and she hears another very sexy but much-too-loud groan. A moment later she's swallowing and _damn it!_

**o~*iii*~o**

Oh, _shit._

If Jacob had any blood to spare he would be blushing. Except that it felt _so _good and he's still hard so it's not as if—

A little sniff zeroes in his attention to Bella's face... and what he sees there makes him wince. "Oh, Bells."

"It's okay," she whispers, but she quickly wipes away tears, only to have them just as quickly replaced as they spill from her eyes.

_(nice, make her wait_)

(_shut the FUCK UP)_

"I'm so, so sorry," he apologizes, going down on his knees in front of her, heedless of his still-open jeans. She looks absolutely heartbroken.

"I know... It's not really your fault." Bella still sounds completely miserable, only this time _he's _the reason for it, and he can't stand that.

"I'm really, really..." He trails off as his eyes, now cleared a little in the post-orgasmic relief, take in her outfit.

She's wearing a _skirt._

A _skirt._

Normally, he loves that she's so casual in her choice of clothing that all he ever sees her in is flannels, jeans, or, well, nothing at all. But today she wore a _skirt _to come and meet him and he knows why—for the same reason she _didn't _wear a bra.

"I love you," he breathes, and then he yanks her up to stand against the column.

"I love you too, but—_Jake!_" Her fingers rake through his hair and then grip it at the roots, holding him against her as he shoves her skirt up out of the way and licks the edge of her panties. "Oh my _God_!"

"Ssshhh," he whispers, trying to keep from grinning.

_(such a fucking pussy)_

_(Shit, I hope so)_

He means to just draw her underwear down to the floor but when he grips the hem his hand twists and they rip clear off. Bella gives another startled squeak as he buries his mouth in slick hot folds. "Jake, we shouldn't—this is really stupid—"

_(she doesn't get to say)_

Jacob growls in agreement, grabbing her hips to hold her steady as he works her clit with the tip of his tongue. Bella moans. He can feel her knees shaking against his chest as she braces herself on his shoulders. That gives him an idea; he moves one hand down to her ankle and hooks it over one shoulder, then, before she catches her balance, does the same on the other side. Now she's completely dependent on him for support as he licks and sucks and basically drives her crazy.

The intruder snarls in his head — he's never been particularly fond of doing this. _Jacob_, on the other hand, loves it.

_(waste of fucking time)_

_(you want her to think we're the thirty-second man? Go away!)_

She tastes _so_ good. Jake's heard guys complaining about having to go down on girls, but he'd do it for hours if Bells would let him. Maybe it's the imprint. Or maybe the other guys just aren't any good at it.

Jacob smiles at the thought.

Suddenly Bella's heels dig into his back and her thighs start to quake. _Excellent. Dam_n, she must have really needed it _bad_. Jake holds onto her hips and presses his tongue harder against her, lapping like a cat _(or a wolf)_ and looking forward to her screams, whoever might hear them be damned—

—then Bella squirms and pushes him away.

What the hell?

**o~*iii*~o**

On one level, Bella can't believe she's stopping him. But the emptiness inside her is demanding to be filled, and an orgasm — even what was definitely about to be a _superb_ one — isn't going to get the job done.

Jacob sets her back on the ground with a look of incredulous disbelief and injured pride. In the shadows she can't see between his legs. "Jake? Um... are you still..."

"Still what?"

Bella wets her lips. "I was just... kind of hoping for... _more_," she squeaks.

At that, Jacob's expression goes from disbelieving to flat-out insulted — but then his eyes darken as he clearly gets what she's asking for. Thank goodness. Bella's already pushed her boundaries into whole new levels today, and she can't quite bring herself to say out loud _I hope you're still hard as a rock because even though you came about two minutes ago I want you to fuck me against the wall in spite of the fact that at any moment we could be caught by passersby and are probably being recorded on security cameras but I don't care because I am burning __**up.**_

Maybe next time she'll have the nerve.

"Turn around."

Bella obeys.

And the next thing she knows, her cheek is pressed to the concrete so hard that it might leave scrapes but she doesn't care because she can feel Jacob lining himself up and _oh God yes_ he's finally inside. Her shirt's up around her neck and the column's abrading her nipples as he begins to thrust into her. It hurts—it feels good—as long as he doesn't stop she's going to come within sixty seconds—

But then he slows down. Bella whimpers in protest, hands scrabbling fruitlessly for a grip. _"Jake!_"

"You wanted more," he reminds her, and now she really wishes she would've just told him to fuck her against the wall. Instead of keeping a steady rhythm, he withdraws almost completely and just... waits.

Bella knows from experience that if she tries to force him to hurry, he'll hold back more, but she's ready to scream from sheer frustration. Instead, she focuses on keeping her voice calm as she agrees, "I did. I do. But Jake—" And now she can't help it; she presses back into him with her limited range of movement, "I really just want _you._" _All of you,_ she silently adds, but if she says that he might figure out what she means and get pissed off at himself, so she keeps it to herself.

With a sudden motion, he's all the way inside again. She cries out, hearing the sound echoing off the walls but not really caring. Jacob starts pistoning again, this time hard and steady, giving her what they both want while she stays suspended in his grip. One of his hands works its way in between her body and the concrete, rubbing her clit in the same unsteady fashion she fantasized about on the phone. She moans involuntarily.

"If you're loud, people are going to come and see us," he warns. The dark edge in his voice tells her that a part of him wants _exactly _that, and thinking about being watched while he does this to her makes her bite her lip against another moan. "Is that what you want?" Helpless, she nods. _Yes. Yes. _He growls when she does, speeding up, and then she's clamping down around him in helpless convulsions, teeth so deep in her lip that she tastes blood while she writhes. Jake groans against her hair—she thinks she catches a "_mine_" in there—and slams into her one final time as he comes.

Bella barely has time to catch her breath before he steps back and lowers her to the floor.

"Bells?" he asks. He sounds like Jake again.

Smiling to herself, Bella readjusts her clothes before turning to face him. "Wow," she tells him, wide-eyed with delight.

The apprehension on his face vanishes, drowned under a wave of relief and pride. "That was—oh, shit, honey." He reaches to brush his knuckles against her face.

Confused, she lifts her own hand to follow the same path, and flinches a little as she encounters the tiny abrasions there. Glancing at her fingertips, she's happy to not see blood. "It's okay."

His forehead wrinkles with confusion. "How can it be okay? You're hurt."

"No I'm not. I mean, I am, but it's... I _like _it." She wishes so much that she could put it in terms he could understand, but her mind's a fuzzy, satisfied blank. She changes the subject instead. "Where's my underwear?"

Jacob ducks to grab the discarded bit of lacy fabric and hand it to her. After using it to clean up a little, she throws it into the trash can near the door and looks around. "Oh. Hey! There's the Highlander!" It's just a few parking spaces down, facing out to the street. "Let's go. My mom's dying to meet you. I bet she starts calling before we're halfway back to her house." After an unsteady step or two, she realizes that her legs really will hold her and sets out with a bit more confidence.

He's still uncertain, but he grasps her outstretched hand willingly enough to follow. "You sure you're okay?"

"Positive. Better than okay. I—" A sudden breeze wafts up her skirt, and she comes to an abrupt halt. "Oh, _crap._"

"What? What's wrong?"

She gapes at him in horror. "Jake! I'm gonna have to watch you talk to my mom without any underwear on!" Across the lot, she spots a woman, keys in hand, peering in their direction. When Jacob follows her out into the light, the woman's face becomes positively disapproving. "And I think that lady might have _heard something._" She's going to be red for the rest of her life. She'll probably be blushing in her casket. People are going to be lining up for one last look and they're going to ask, "Why did they make her look so embarrassed?"

He snorts, then, at her minatory glare, assumes the most unconvincing repentant look she's ever seen. "Sorry, honey."

Oh thank God. He's not mad at himself. "It's not funny," she grumbles, starting to walk again, but when he tries to muffle his chuckle she realizes that she's not all that sorry, either.

**o~*iii*~o**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note:<em>**

_A big, huge, MASSIVE "thank you" to **MeraNaamJoker** & **audreyii-fic **_(I love you two muchly. Forgive me for the brain-hemorrhage) _for, once more, giving me the honor of working with them. Suffice to say, this chapter is 99% their brilliance. Only a few paragraphs are mine, so direct praise where it's due. _**_  
><em>**


End file.
